Powerless
by Potato19
Summary: In the final showdown with Voldemort, Harry loses his magical abilities, rendering him powerless. Alienating those around him, he attempts to assimilate to Muggle life, figure out the (a-little-too-close-to-home) reason behind his inabilities and, hopefully, regain his magic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Anything you recognise belongs to JK.

AN: This is a Harry story. And a Hermione story. (I ship them, but that isn't the main focus of the story). There's quite a lot of Ron. It's a story I wanted to read, and I wasn't sure if it existed, so I decided to write it. It involves quite a few characters, a bit of a conspiracy and betrayal.

I should mention that this story will probably paint a not-so-great picture of what's left of the Order. Kind of. Sorry. And I wouldn't go so far as to say I don't like Dumbledore. I was pretty gutted when he died. What I don't like is that Harry was just part of a grand plan. This story draws on that idea; the idea that Dumbledore's plan continued long after he was dead, and long after Voldemort was defeated. Do enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One

For Harry Potter, being a wizard was everything. It was who he was, right to the very core. It was what connected him to his parents. Every fibre of his being existed to be a wizard. He was convinced. So when he lost his ability to perform magic, he didn't handle it very well. In fact, he didn't handle it at all.

In the weeks that followed the great Battle of Hogwarts, Harry managed to alienate all around him. Ginny was the first one to have it with his brooding and broke up with him quicker than the grass could begin to grow on the graves of those they had lost.

She claimed that she couldn't sit by and watch him wallow day in day out. She deserved a better boyfriend, and he needed to get over himself if he was ever going to be that for her, so she had ended it. It merely added to the emotional downpour he found himself wading through. He just didn't see a way into the clear.

Harry didn't hold it against Ginny. He wouldn't want to be with him either. He was nothing if not a wizard. And who would want to be with a nothing?

Harry didn't feel all that much after the war. It was as if he was numb. It was that, or he was constantly being bombarded with every emotion all the time, and he could barely register anything new.

Ron was next. He'd lost his patience with his best friend when Harry didn't show the right amount of excitement for Ron and his new position as an Auror in training. Harry had barely registered the red-head had been mad at him until Ron just stopped coming around. That relationship was over and, with it, the rest began to fall. Everyone already had their own grief to deal with, and Harry moved to the back of their minds. How could they help someone who wouldn't help themselves?

It was Hermione who stuck with him the longest. Even after Ron had given up, she still visited him at the apartment he opted to rent in Piccadilly Circus in London. It was a mess of a place, raggedy and very unlike Harry. Well, the old Harry. It appeared to be very like the new one now. There were empty food containers strewn all over the floor and a worrying amount of beer bottles.

Hermione's first thought that last time she visited was that the entire situation deeply hurt her. He was her best friend and, somehow, he had managed to dull himself to a quarter of the person he once was. She hated to see him drift away from them, as if the sight of them was a burden. She just couldn't understand.

Then again, she didn't know what she would do if she ever lost her ability to do magic. It was too much to think about, which was why she was probably the last person Harry knew who was still trying to understand. If she didn't, who else would?

Hermione found Harry passed out on his grimy couch, dressed in only boxers, a stained t-shirt and dirty white socks. He looked a right mess. She couldn't stop herself from thinking that it was downright shameful for him to be acting this way. He was the wizard that saved them all; probably the most famous wizard alive, and yet he was sulking away his days, as if he would take back his sacrifice if someone were to give him the option.

She supposed that was where the problem was. All his titles carried the word 'wizard' with them. Now all he was was a teenage boy, as normal as they came. Only, the magical world had never come across a wizard so willing, so able, and so powerful.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" Harry asked, coming to, from the sound of Hermione trying to clean up as best she could. "How did you get in here?"

Hermione watched in mild reservation as he gingerly sat up and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light. Without much thinking, she said, "Do you really have to ask that?"

Harry sat up fully and dropped his feet to the ground. "Oh. Right. That whole witchcraft thing," he said sourly. "How could I forget?"

Hermione shook her head, more in irritation with herself. Magic was a tense subject with him. But then, it shouldn't have been so difficult to have a conversation with her Harry. Because that's who he was; who he would always be. She could see the boy she knew hidden in his dark and tired eyes. The horrors of the Battle were trying to claim him, and he was allowing them to. She had to be someone he could hold onto. She had to.

"I repeat: what are you doing here, Hermione?"

She moved to stand over him, fighting the urge to touch him. A part of her entertained the thought that she could transfer some magic to him. It was stupid and childish but she couldn't help herself. She'd to anything to bring him back to them. "What kind of question is that, Harry? I'm here because I want to help."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't need fixing, Hermione."

"I didn't say you did." She took a breath. "And you haven't been responding to my letters," she said pointedly.

"Muggles don't use letters the way you do, Hermione," he said just as pointedly. "Maybe you should try calling next time you feel the need to drop by unannounced."

"Maybe I will," she huffed. No. She didn't want to get angry with him. This wasn't him. This was just how he was dealing with it. "I came by because I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"About things, Harry. I know you've had a rough time of it lately, but you don't have to be holed up in here by yourself all the time, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't?"

Hermione found herself irritated but she managed to squash it down. "I got back from Australia yesterday," she said. "And my parents are fine, thanks for asking. As expected, they weren't too happy with me. I told you all this in the letters I sent, but you don't seem to have read them." She indicated to the pile of unread letters sitting on the counter in the kitchen area. She suspected at least one of those letters was from the Ministry.

"I've been busy," he lied.

"I can see that," she said, humouring him. "Quite a record you've got going for you here, I see. How is the Muggle beer treating you?"

Harry didn't respond.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, by the way. It couldn't be helped."

"We didn't do anything," Harry said. "It was just a normal day. You didn't miss anything."

There was a moment of silence that passed between them. Usually, their silence was a comfortable one, but Hermione felt severely out of place and under scrutiny. Ron wouldn't like that she had actually gone to see him. But for different reasons to the fact that Harry didn't seem to want her there either.

"Were you ever going to reply to me?" she found herself asking, even though she had promised herself she wouldn't. She liked to think she were one of the more important people in his life, and that meant that he would answer the affirmative to her question.

Only, he didn't. "Probably not."

She could tell it was the truth. Who he was was so far scarred by the losses of the Battle that he wasn't even trying to spare her feelings.

"Look, I don't need you checking on me, you know," he said, attempting to get to his feet and failing. He fell back onto the couch and let out a long breath.

"I know. I'm not here for you."

"Then why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, Harry. Why would you think I wanted something from you?"

Harry let out a rather sickening laugh, which sounded so foreign on his lips. "Isn't that why everyone comes here? Everybody always wants something from me, Hermione. All people do is take and take and take. Well, now I haven't got anything more to give."

Hermione had to remind herself that this wasn't Harry. It was probably a hangover talking.

"When are you just going to leave?" he asked, looking right at her. "Like everyone else. They want nothing to do with me. I'm just a Muggle now; not worth their time."

"You know that's not true. It has nothing to do with your abilities and everything to do with the way you're handling all of this."

Harry rose to his feet, even stumbling slightly. "And how exactly am I handling it?"

"You're not!" she said hotly , raising her voice for the first time. "I mean, honestly, Harry, magic isn't everything in this world. You spent eleven years without it. Are you forgetting that you're alive? You're alive. With or without magic, that counts for something."

"Well," he said, sounding defeated; "I'd rather be dead."

She shot him a look. "You don't mean that. You take that back right now."

Harry said nothing.

"Stop it! Dammit, just stop it! I'm trying to understand but I can't. You have so much going for you, Harry. You can do so much. You're alive. Why are you wasting it?"

"What do you suggest I do, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes boring into her with such intensity; she was sure it would start to hurt her physically. "Am I supposed to, what, become an Auror like Ron? Because I can't. What? Should I go back to Hogwarts like you intend to? Oh wait, I can't do that either. I'm not a wizard. Can't you see? There's nothing left for me in this world of yours."

Before Hermione could argue any further, Harry continued.

"You just don't get it, do you? My entire life led up to the very moment Voldemort and I battled. Everything I ever did was for that moment. All the training, all the fighting. Even the fact that I was a wizard led up to the moment we came face to face once he was mortal again. And then, lo and behold, I did it. I, a seventeen-year-old boy wizard did what the prophecy said: I defeated good old Voldy. I did that. And what did I get in return? What, Hermione? What did poor Harry Potter get?

"Every person I've considered family is dead. Dead. My parents. Sirius. Lupin. Dobby. Hedwig. Gosh, I even got Fred killed. Tonks. Colin. They all died so I could be the one to defeat Voldemort. And I did it. After all of it, it was done. And I was left with nothing. I'm powerless without my magic. I'm nothing if I'm not a wizard. I'm nothing. I have nothing."

"You have me," she found herself saying, her voice dropping so low, she couldn't even be sure he heard.

For a moment, Harry's eyes softened. Through it all, Hermione had been by his side. Even now. Even with his entire world falling to pieces around him; she was still there. Hadn't he ruined her enough for one lifetime? For many lifetimes.

"You should go," Harry said, fighting the ache the words caused him. He never wanted to be the person to hurt her, but he couldn't see himself ever being the boy he once was. The magic was gone, and so was he. "Leave, Hermione, and never come back."

Hermione blinked a few times. "What?" she whispered.

"Just leave like the rest of them. You're going to end up doing it anyway, so you may as well just get it over with. Leave, Hermione. Go. Go. And don't come back."

"Harry? You don't know what you're saying."

Harry shook his head, as if he was steeling himself for his next words. "If you want me to get over this so badly, you'll leave me alone, Hermione. I don't need you or anyone else reminding me what I've lost. I want you to go. Forget about me or who I was. You already know that I'm not the boy I used to be, and I'll probably never be."

"Harry?" she practically pleaded.

He shook his head. "If you care about me at all, you'll go. Live your wonderful magical life. I'll be all right. Just go."

"Harry?" she pleaded once more.

"Go!" he yelled, convincing himself that this was the only way. "Go! Now, go!"

Hermione was so surprised she stepped back. When Harry yelled, he was usually serious. Or in pain. Or so convinced that there was no other way. "So that's it then?"

"I guess it is."

"Just like that."

"Just like that."

For the most part, Hermione was convinced he was going to take back what he was saying. He was going to apologise and tell her that he was acting crazy and he didn't mean it. Only, he didn't. All he did was look at her with his striking green eyes, daring her to defy. She didn't.

It was over. Their entire friendship brought to a head in this very moment; it was over.

And all because he'd lost his magic. He didn't think he deserved anything else. Not friendship, not kindness and not love. He was willing to throw it all away and she was willing to let him.

Before she left, Hermione looked at him once more; the shell of the once great wizard, Harry Potter. There was a moment when their eyes met and, for a moment, Hermione thought that she understood.

But then she didn't.

She walked out, feeling a mixture of emotions. She wanted to be angry with him, but all she felt was pity. It was painful. She'd never wanted to pity Harry Potter, and she was sure he wouldn't want her to. They'd all come so far for it to be like this, and she convinced herself that all he needed was time. She would give that to him; she would give him as long as he needed.

It just never crossed her mind that Harry Potter would consider that time to be forever.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Despite herself, Hermione continued to look into Harry's predicament. A wizard did not just lose his magic for no reason. There had to be some explanation. And, if she could find an explanation, she might be able to find a cure. Anything to bring her  
Harry back.

For the most part, she started to believe that she was the only one even remotely concerned about Harry. She went back to Hogwarts feeling like she was letting him down, just leaving him to fend for himself in the great big Muggle world. Only, she couldn't  
help him by hovering. So she did what she did best.

As normal, Hermione spent most, if not all, of her free time in the library. When she wasn't in classes, performing prefect and head girl duties or eating in the Great Hall, she had her head buried in a book. Besides her studying, Hermione researched  
everything to do with the loss of magic. Truthfully, she came up empty more often than not. Even Professor McGonagall couldn't remember any other instance of such a thing occurring.

Except, well, Voldemort himself.

In the beginning, Ginny showed interest in Hermione's research; her feelings for Harry true to form. But even her queries grew seldom as the term went on. Hermione continually wrote to him but received no response. To say she was worried would be a gross  
understatement. She repeatedly asked Ron to check in on him, just to make sure he was all right, but the redhead was as stubborn as ever.

Ron was, however, there at the station when Hermione arrived for Christmas break. He looked excited to see her, which warmed every bit of her. Their haphazard start to their relationship had made things strange at first, but the ease of which she glided  
into his arms was unlike anything she'd experienced before.

For the first time in a while, she felt like things would be okay. Well, right until the moment she brought up Harry. Ron had timed it. It had taken her exactly forty seven minutes to bring up their once best friend. Ron did his best not to roll his eyes.

"Have you been to see him at all since I've been gone?" Hermione asked as they sat across from each other in a cafe in King's Cross Station.

Ron didn't respond immediately. If he told the truth, she would berate him. If he lied, she would only question him further.

Hermione read his lack of response for what it was. "You haven't, have you?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

"I can't believe it," she said, even though she could. "I asked you to do one thing, Ronald. One thing. Goodness knows how he's got on all this time."

Ron sighed. "He's fine."

"And how would you know?" Hermione almost yelled, rising to her feet. "I'm going over there right now. You better hope that I don't find him dead."

Ron pulled out some Muggle money and dropped it onto the table before he followed her in her haste. He almost had to break into a jog to keep up.

"Hermione," he called out. "Wait. Just wait up, would you? Let's talk about this. You can't just rock up at his place without warning. You know how he can be now that he's -"

She stopped walking quite suddenly and turned to look at him. "Now that he's what?" she asked, her voice sharp and accusing. "Now that he's no longer one of us?"

"I wasn't going to say that," he said, sighing. "You know I wasn't. It's just that he wants nothing to do with us anymore. We can't deny that things are different. It's hard to be the type of friends we once were. And it isn't as if I haven't tried. We  
all have. Everyone, except him."

Hermione didn't want to have this argument. "I'm still going to see him."

He sighed. "At least let us Apparate there then."

So they did. They appeared right into what they knew to be a broom closet in Harry's apartment building. They were so close, standing face to face, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from stealing a kiss. Even though they were on a mission for Harry,  
she had to assure Ron that it was him she wanted to be with.

"It's Apartment 2B," Ron reminded her as they made their way through the building. He started to feel a bit nervous as they approached the door. He hadn't seen Harry in months, and he had no idea what to expect from this meeting.

Although, he had to admit that what they did end up finding could never have crossed his mind.

Harry Potter was not in the apartment.

Someone else was.

Hermione was actually lost for words. There were questions she wanted to ask, but nothing seemed to come out. From her position, she could tell that the interior was different. It wasn't Harry's apartment. It wasn't his place. Harry no longer lived there.  
That was the truth of it. A truth she hadn't known; a truth he hadn't told her.

Harry Potter was gone.

Hermione couldn't put words to what she was feeling. Ron managed to ask questions of the new tenant about the old tenant but the answers were vague. Harry was gone and nobody knew where. Hermione was convinced he had told someone. He had to have told  
somebody where he was going. Famous wizards didn't just disappear without anyone knowing.

Or they did.

Hermione spent most of her Christmas break trying to track down Harry but to no avail. His former landlord had no idea where he had gone and none of his supposed neighbours even recognised who she was asking about. They'd never met Harry. Surprising.

Hermione even considered not returning to Hogwarts and continuing her search but Ron convinced her not to. He promised he would continue the search while she wrote her N.E.W.T.S. She knew he wouldn't, what with Auror training and his family claiming most  
of his time, but she still agreed. Harry wouldn't want her to make her schoolwork take a backseat.

The rest of Hermione's school year went quickly. She scored very highly on her exams, and she had the entire Magical world to choose from. Hermione chose the Ministry. Magical Law. It was where her passion lay, and it also gave her access to great libraries.

Ron was adorable as ever, dropping in to see her whenever he could. He was doing well as an Auror, shining in his own light, with Dean and Seamus to back him up. They were slowly becoming a formidable team, almost unstoppable, but there was always that  
whisper about Harry. Where was he? Would he ever return? Would he get his magic back and become the Auror they all believed he would be?

Like his father.

Hermione knew that bringing Harry up to Ron or any of the Weasley family wouldn't sit well so she kept talk of him to a minimum. She had to find him. She kept busy with her research into the loss of magic, into his whereabouts and into her own work. She,  
like Ron, was doing good, even great work. She was fighting the fight, whether as a prosecutor or a defender. She always upheld the Law as best she could.

Hermione rarely took things remotely Harry related home with her because, even though they weren't officially living together, Ron always seemed to be around. He stayed with his brother, George, in Central London, near enough to the entrance to Diagon  
Alley as well as the Ministry. Hermione lived a little further away. She liked to be able to make a break for her parents' house whenever she wanted, without having to worry too much about distance and traffic. Apparating into her parents' space just  
didn't seem like good manners.

Bringing Harry home with her always made her a little nervous. She and Ron were good when he wasn't a topic of conversation. She sometimes thought that Ron thought she still blamed him for the fact that Harry disappeared from right under his nose. She  
didn't. Well, not anymore. They were past it. Sort of. It was just something they didn't talk about. Well, at least not until that night in late November, just before the snow arrived.

"Hermione?" Ron called out. His tone worried Hermione just a little as she made her way from the kitchen to her study to find him standing near her desk with a pile of papers in his hand. "What is this?"

Hermione swallowed. "What's what?"

He raised the pages. "This. These. What's all this about Harry?"

For a moment, she considered her options. The one she settled on would prove to be detrimental, but there shouldn't have been anything taboo about the topic of their friend. Ron had to understand that.

Only, he didn't. The fight that ensued was paramount to nothing they had had before. And they had fought. Or bickered. It was what they did. They pushed each other's buttons but it was what made them so perfect. Right?

"All this time," Ron yelled. "You've been trying to find him all this time?"

"Always."

"And behind my back? Merlin, Hermione, finding Harry isn't even your department. It's mine."

She frowned. "You think this is about the Ministry?"

He frowned. "Why else would you be trying to find him? Want all the glory, do you?"

She just stared. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head, as if getting rid of his previous thought. "It's always going to be Harry, isn't it? No matter what I do, no matter what I say or who I become; it will always be him? Has it always been?"

"What?"

"Can you tell me right now that if he still had his magic; would you even be with me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Ron closed his eyes for a moment. "An entirely realistic one."

There was a moment - a long one - where Hermione came to the realisation she would carry with her for the rest of her life. The terms of who she had developed into as a person were tied heavily around her two boys. She had absolutely no idea who she was  
without them both. _Both_. One wasn't enough. But neither?

When Ron left that fateful evening, he didn't leave her with an ultimatum or a choice to make. In his mind, she had already chosen. Unlike him, she couldn't leave Harry behind. She didn't want to. That wasn't what made him mad. In fact, he probably loved  
her more for it. What made it unbearable for him was that he was able to. What kind of person was he if he found even the slightest relief in the fact that his best friend was gone? What kind of person relished the fact that Harry had no magic?

And for it, he hated himself.

Hermione deserved better.

Gosh, even Harry deserved better.

Wherever he was.

* * *

It took Hermione close to two years to give up her tireless search for Harry. It came the morning of Sirius' birthday. It was difficult for her to let it go but, if he wanted to be found, she would have already. He clearly wanted nothing to do with any  
of them, and who was she to force the issue?

What she didn't stop was trying to figure out why his magic was gone. Like everything, it was a puzzle that interested her. It was something she had to figure out. No matter how long it took. She continually consulted with aged witches and wizards, trying  
to figure out the mystery.

November third also marked the release of Rita Skeeter's tell-all book on Harry Potter. The Truth About the Boy Wizard, No More. To say it wasn't at all scandalous would have been foolish. She was a woman hell spent on sensationalism, no matter who the  
subject was. Hermione purchased the book, more out of curiosity than anything. Of course, there were a lot of things said about her. One of which, and she probably wouldn't have argued as profusely as she might have if Harry were actually around,  
was that Hermione was in love with the heroic Mr Potter.

A conversation with Ron she had had in recent months made her consider the truth of it. Well, some of the truth. She had and probably would always care deeply for Harry but there had never been romantic feelings between them. Had they? And what about  
for him? It had always been Ginny. And it had always been Ron. Until it wasn't.

Which was what Ron so loved to point out. He was happily moving on and he was convinced that the reason she wasn't was because she had unresolved feelings regarding Harry.

She wondered if Harry was reading the book wherever he was. Whatwould behis reaction to Rita's accusations be? He'd probably say nothing, even if he burned with anger. She knew he hated people assuming things about his life. His life was already  
hard enough.

"A letter arrived from Luna," Margaret said, entering Hermione's office after a light knock. "And more flowers from Cormac."

Hermione let out a long breath. "You would think the guy would get a clue."

Margaret smiled. "You would think the girl would give him a chance."

"Oh, I did. At Hogwarts. And it was awful."

Margaret didn't say a word more as she handed over the letter from Luna. "Don't stay too long tonight. Remember that you have a full day in the Wizengamot tomorrow."

Hermione's eyes drifted towards the pile of case files on her desk. "I haven't forgotten." She waited until Margaret was gone before she opened Luna's letter. Whenever Luna wrote, it was normally something important.

And this letter was no different. Luna wrote of a boy who had asked her to dinner; a boy she had yet to say yes to. From the description, Hermione knew exactly who the boy was. She wasn't sure how she felt about how things were unfolding in all of their  
lives so she decided to wait with a response.

She had already made one big decision for one day.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Hermione's big breakthrough came several weeks after what was Harry's twenty third birthday. The years had gone by slowly and fast at the same time. A lot of things had happened and yet not much had. Hermione still worked as a Ministry employee, and she  
still had Margaret as her assistant. Hermione also still kept up the search for the mystery behind Harry's loss of magic, right until the moment she was convinced she figured it out.

"You did it," Margaret said.

Hermione just stared, her mind frozen. She did it. She actually did it. It had to be it. There wasn't anything else.

"Hermione, you did it. You know why Harry lost his magic. You can help him get it back." Margaret went quiet. "Well, that's if you know where he is."

Hermione managed to recover. "Do you actually think I know where he is?"

Margaret blinked a few times. "Don't you?"

"What makes you think I do?"

"Because you're Hermione, and he's Harry. He must have written to you or let you know that he was okay somehow."

Hermione shook her head. "I have absolutely no idea where he is. He didn't care enough about me to let me know."

Margaret didn't comment on the forlorn look in her boss' eyes. "Are you going to try to get this information to him?" she asked, trying to move the topic of conversation along. "Because you'll probably need to speak to our supervisor first."

Hermione's immediate supervisor was a woman who wasn't particularly fond of anyone. So Hermione went directly to the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. As members of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione and hehad a certain understanding. As  
did many of the other survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"So you've finally figured it out then?" he asked, not sounding the least bit surprised, or impressed. He knew it would have happened eventually. Hermione Granger was the determined type, if not talented.

"I have."

"Good," Kingsley said, setting his hands on his desk in front of him. "I've already began the process of finding him. He hasn't made it easy."

Hermione frowned. "You've already started? But I've just come to you."

He smiled knowingly. "I need Harry Potter here for a bit more than returning his magic to him, Miss Granger. You'll forgive me for not revealing it all to you at present."

Hermione said nothing, although a slight frown remained on her face.

"I've been trying to reach him since I was appointed," Kingsley continued, somewhat truthfully. "For a Muggle, he sure knows how to hide himself."

"Well, he did spend eleven years of his life locked up in a broom closet. Anywhere works for him."

Kingsley decided not to comment on that. "You should probably go down and speak with Mr Weasley. I think the two of you can help each other out with the search."

Hermione did just that. She didn't normally have reason to go down to the Auror Headquarters, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ron and she avoided each other in the workplace, mainly because they didn't want other people to feel uncomfortable  
around them even though they were perfectly fine with each other. Had been, for several years now.

Hermione found him in his cubicle, leaning back in his desk chair and reading the newspaper like his father did. It just warmed her heart.

"So, this is you hard at work then?" Hermione said, quickly getting his attention.

Ron sat up quite rapidly, laughing at himself. "I'm taking a break."

"Do I even have to ask how long of a break this has been?"

A look of guilt flashed across his face. Then he cleared his throat. This was a professional visit. "I assume you're here about Harry."

Hermione nodded. "I hear you're looking for him," she said.

Ron managed a smile. "Have been, since the moment I became an Auror," he admitted. "I told you it was my Department, not yours."

"You could have told me, you know?"

"I don't know what good it would have done," he admitted. Then, with a smile: "We both know how obsessive you can be."

"Hey." She punched him in the arm, but it didn't even seem to register with him; his arm was so strong.

He laughed. "You know that bringing up Harry doesn't bode well for any of us. And plus, I didn't have much to tell. I've no idea where he is. Just where he _was_."

Hermione just nodded.

"Do you really think you can help him regain his magic?"

"If I'm right about what caused the loss in the first place, then I think I can bring him back."

Ron sighed, stepping towards her. "Hermione, you need to listen to yourself. I know you want to believe that giving him back his abilities will make him better but that isn't how it works. It's been years since we've seen him. He's changed. We've changed.  
He's never going to be the Harry we knew. You need to remember that."

"I do." She did. She really did. It just seemed too foreboding to think of him as anyone other than the green-eyed boy she had spent seven years getting to know.

"Good," Ron concluded. "Now, let's see if the two of us can put what we know together and find that elusive non-wizard once and for all."

It took them close to three weeks to get anywhere close to where they thought he was. They tracked him through years of movement until the trail grew painfully cold. At a certain point, they had to agree that Harry just stopped moving.

"He found somewhere he likes," Hermione said, rather sadly. "He found somewhere."

Ron looked at her. "Without us."

Hermione sighed. "Well, umm, it's somewhere between here and Manchester, which gives us quite a lot to work with."

Ron brought out a map. "We can search through these towns in no time," he said. "My team can have it done by the end of the week. We'll find him, and you can make the first approach."

Hermione felt her eyes mist up. "You're sure?"

Ron nodded. "I'm sure."

True to his word, by the end of the week, Ron had news for Hermione. He didn't visit her offices as often as he once did, but once they got over the end of their relationship; they'd managed to hit the heights of their friendship once more. Bickering  
and all.

Ron burst in through her slightly ajar door. "We found him!"

Hermione didn't even react to his words. The confusion of excitement and fear paralysed her. "What now?"

"We can go right now, if you want."

Hermione hesitated, suddenly very unsure of herself.

Ron could sense it. "Although, we should probably go tomorrow. I need to get the team prepared, and you probably need to sort out all your research on the matter. I think it's better if we go tomorrow."

All Hermione did was nod.

"Tomorrow, ten o'clock." And then he was gone.

Hermione's heart was racing. Tomorrow. Ten o'clock. She would see Harry James Potter.

* * *

It was a small shop. And quiet. The colours were calm and the aroma was strong. It was everything she thought Harry would be. Always there, always hidden and always worth it.

When she entered, there was nobody behind the front counter. An old lady sitting at a table indicated to her that she should ring the bell. Once she did, a voice yelled from somewhere in what she assumed was the kitchen.

"Just a minute."

It was a woman. She would have to ask for Harry. If that was even what he called himself these days. Because she was expecting a woman to emerge from the double doors of the kitchen, she was wholly unprepared when Harry James Potter bundled through, clad  
in a baker's apron with flour on his face.

"Sorry about the wait," he muttered, not looking at her as he dusted himself off. "What can I get y - " he stopped quite suddenly once he did look up. He cleared his throat. "Umm, what can I get for you?"

Hermione looked at him for a long time, seeing the boy and the man at the same time. He had grown quite spectacularly. He was taller, more toned, with a jaw to make a girl melt. And his arms. Maybe from kneading dough. Maybe from becoming a Muggle.

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment. Then, stepping back, she said, "I think I'll just have a coffee." She looked at the selection of pastries. "What would you recommend?"

For a moment, he risked a smile, knowing full well what she would want. "Perhaps a lemon and poppyseed muffin," he offered.

"You think?"

He nodded. "Definitely."

"If you say so."

Harry took a deep breath. "Shall I just ring that up?" He moved towards the cash register. "Is that a sit down or a take away?"

Hermione regarded him for a moment. "Well, I intended for a take away, but I think I'll sit."

"Right." He busied himself with the register. "You just have a seat then," he instructed. "Your order will be ready shortly."

Hermione made her way to an empty table near a window. As instructed. She could remember Ron telling her to stay in sight. They had no idea what kind of person Harry was.

She remembered asking if Ron thought Harry would hurt her. He shook his head, but he admitted that Harry might try desperately to protect whatever world he had built for himself.

Harry delivered her coffee and muffin himself, setting them down in front of her, his hands steady and stable. He was calm. Was he that unaffected by her presence?

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked. "Anything more you need?"

Hermione looked at him. "Perhaps some company."

She didn't miss the sudden hesitation. He looked worried, as if he wasn't sure how to explain himself to her, or to someone else.

"Umm," he sounded. "Sure. Just, umm, give me a minute. Let me get someone to cover for me."

When he disappeared, Hermione started to think that he actually wouldn't come back again. The worry she felt made her palms sweat and she couldn't even bring herself to begin sipping at her coffee. It was only when he reappeared that she let out a breath  
she didn't even know she was holding. He was no longer in an apron and he had wiped his face of flour. He carried a bottle of water with him as he made his way towards her and sat down in the opposite seat.

They stared at each other for quite a while, neither one wanting to be the first to speak. As they stared, they both began to smile. Hermione only vaguely noticed the old lady from earlier sneak looks at them from time to time.

Eventually, Harry broke the silence. "Hello, Hermione."

She took a deep breath. "Harry."

"You look good," he said, being truthful.

"As do you."

He looked down at his hands. "You have to know it's good to see you and all, but I have to know what you're doing here. I mean, how did you even find me? Why?"

His questions were expected but she had no intentions of answering them just yet. "How have you been?" she asked.

He frowned. "Hermione."

"Harry."

He sighed. "I've been well," he said, even though she could tell there was a hint of an untruth in his words. "How have you been?"

"Good."

Harry knew one of her lies when she told one so blatantly but he did not comment. "How are your parents? How are the Weasleys? And Neville? Luna?"

Hermione shifted in her seat. Perhaps if she told him things, he would tell her things. "My parents are fine. They moved back to England after I finished at Hogwarts. We've rebuilt our relationship. As for the Weasleys, all are fine. Happy. And Neville,  
I'm sure you must know, has started work at Hogwarts. Luna writes for the _Quibbler_. She writes the truth, just as her father did."

Harry digested all this information in silence.

"Professor McGonagall is still Headmistress and doing a wonderful job. I've been working at the Ministry."

"Just like you said you would."

She nodded.

"And Ron? How is Ron?"

Hermione noticed that his voice softened at the name of their red-headed friend. "He is fine. He's working as an Auror. He's the reason we've found you."

Harry looked at her. "He's here?"

She nodded. "Outside. Waiting. Kingsley needs to see you. I need to run something by you."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he said strongly. "I left that all behind, Hermione. I'm a Muggle now. I want nothing to do with the Magical world. I want nothing to do with the world that's taken so much from me."

"Harry?"

"No, Hermione," he continued. "I left to come to terms with it, and I have. I saved the world and I was rewarded with normalcy. Do you have any idea how wonderfully _unstressful_ my life is right now? I wake up at the crack of dawn and I come to  
work. Can you imagine? I come to work as a baker. I knead the dough and I bake the bread and it's so blissful. I don't have to worry about upholding any laws or fighting off wars and politics and people wanting something from me. Here, in this world,  
I'm just Harry. I'm just a kid with no parents, no education and no worries. I'm not giving that up."

Hermione stared at him for a long time. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She leaned forward. "Just answer me this, Harry," she said seriously. "If I told you that I think I've found a way to get your magic back; would you come with me?"

Harry didn't respond.

"You would, wouldn't you?"

Harry still said nothing.

Hermione pulled out a business card from her blazer pocket. "I did what you suggested and got myself a phone. Think you can give me a ring when you decide you're coming back. I'd like to prepare a space to run some tests."

Harry just watched as her slender fingers pushed the small white card along the small table in front of them.

"Think about it, Harry. You've spent all this time running from a magical problem. I'm telling you that I might have a magical solution. You cannot honestly tell me that you're not even a little bit interested."

She received no response. Without another word, she rose to her feet and began to pull out her purse.

Harry shook his head. "It's on the house," he said softly. "It's the least I can do for having you come all this way for nothing."

"Oh, I didn't come for nothing, Harry. I came to _see_ you."

He blinked a few times, the tone of her voice a little too foreign for him.

"It's up to Ron and his team whether or not you see Kingsley. You should know by now that nothing about the Ministry is a request."

Harry didn't react. "They could have sent a letter."

She actually laughed. "Right, because that's worked so well for them in the past."

Harry stood up, smiling despite himself. "It was nice to see you, Hermione. Give my regards to everyone, will you?"

She shook her head. "You'll do it yourself when you come to your senses," she said, starting to leave. "I'll see you soon, Harry."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

When Ron asked Hermione how it had been actually seeing Harry, she hadn't been able to formulate an appropriate response. The truth was that it seemed to have affected her more than she thought it would. Seeing him had stirred up all sorts of different  
feelings, ranging from blind rage to utter relief. She had fought with herself, forcing herself to stay put even though she wanted to fling her arms around him or kick him as hard as she could between the legs.

"Strange," Hermione concluded.

Ron could almost understand that. When he had gone in to deliver the letter from the Minister of Magic, all Harry had done was stare.

"Minister Shacklebolt is expecting you Monday morning," Ron said. "I would suggest you be there." That was all he decided to say. When he turned to leave, Harry called him back.

"It's nice to see you, Ron."

Ron bit back a nasty remark. Instead, he rolled his eyes. "Sure. Whatever, Harry." And then he left.

Ron and Hermione arrived back in the Ministry, both lost in their own emotions about seeing their once best friend. Each of them retreated to their own spaces to deal with the aftermath of the meeting. Ron sat in his cubicle in complete silence and thought  
hard. He had so many memories of his best friend, and they were all coming back to him, thick and fast. It was all a little too much to think about.

Hermione sat in her own office, her own feelings threatening to consume her. Ron had always mentioned that she had unresolved feelings for Harry, and she hated to admit that he was right. Seeing him had turned her into a teenage girl. He was the famous  
wizard all over again, mysterious and untouchable. She was just mightily proud that she had managed to get through the entire conversation without the mixture of emotions getting the better of her.

Monday would come and Harry would enter the Ministry for the first time in goodness knows how many years. Then she would confirm her theory about his loss of magic and, hopefully, reverse it.

Only, Harry did not show up. Kingsley waited until noon before he sent Ron's team to retrieve the once hero of the Wizarding world.

"Bring him in. Unwillingly, if you have to."

It was a command that left Ron feeling a bit uncomfortable but he was not one to disobey a direct order. When they arrived at the bakery; Harry didn't look the least bit nervous. It was almost as if he had expected them; even wanted them to fetch him.

"You weren't kidding, were you?"

Ron didn't look amused. "Let's go."

Even though Dean and Seamus dragged Harry out of the bakery, he did allow them to. There was no fight. He just seemed entirely amused by it all; as if he were enjoying all the attention a little too much. Ron Apparated side-along with Harry, right into  
Kingsley's office.

"Ooh," Harry sounded, looking at Ron. "You must be quite important, being able to Apparate right into the boss' office and all?"

Ron just kept his eyes facing the Minister of Magic, who was seated at his desk, looking expectantly at the green-eyed boy. Man.

"Ah, Mr Potter," Kingsley said. "How nice to see you."

Harry said nothing as he stepped away from Ron and claimed a chair opposite Kingsley's desk.

"Thank you for joining us."

"I didn't really have much choice, now did I?"

Kingsley smiled. "You always have a choice, Harry Potter. You know that."

Harry sneaked a look at Ron. Then he looked back at Kingsley. "I assume you want something from me then."

Kingsley nodded. "We've always wanted something from you, Harry. You know that. We cannot have a Muggle being in possession of the Deathly Hallows. It is as simple as that."

Harry could feel Ron look at him, somewhat accusingly, but he kept his eyes on Kingsley. "I already told you that I destroyed the Elder Wand, and I dropped the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest."

"And I already told you that I'm talking specifically about the Cloak of Invisibility."

"Why? Are you looking to evade death, Mr Shacklebolt?"

"The Cloak, Harry."

All of this was news to Ron, and he wasn't sure what to do with the new information.

Harry shook his head. "It's mine," he said strongly. "It belonged to my father, and to his father before that. I do not care if I am no longer a wizard; the Cloak will forever remain in my family."

Kingsley also shook his head. "I have allowed you to live with it for many years, Mr Potter, but I'm afraid that time has come to an end. It is my understanding that you have no intention of meeting with Miss Granger regarding her discovery. Is that correct?"

Harry didn't respond.

"I do hope you'll consider. If you regain your magic, the Cloak shall remain with you. If not, you will return it to the Magical world."

Harry looked at Ron. "Why can't I just give it to him?"

Kingsley and Ron exchanged a look. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Kingsley said.

Harry sat back in his chair. "You and I both know that anything you say to me will not get me to hand it over to you. It's as simple as that."

"Where is the Cloak, Mr Potter?"

"If you expected that I would have it with me, you're wrong," Harry said. "It isn't exactly something a Muggle just carries around with him, you know?"

"Tell me where it is."

Harry shook his head. "You want me to be all magical again then?" he sounded, only slightly annoyed at the round about nature of this conversation. "Let me speak with Hermione. Maybe we can work something out, right? Because, I swear, that Cloak isn't  
leaving my family. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands. And, I'd warn you, wizard or not, I've faced things far scarier than you and your Ministry."

Kingsley seemed to consider this. "Fine. Consult with Miss Granger."

Harry sat up straight. "You don't think I can get my magic back, do you? You've always known it would never return, haven't you?"

Kingsley said nothing.

"Oh, wait, you're hoping I don't get it back. You're hoping Hermione's got it all wrong, because then you're really going to have a problem on your hands. You were so worried before. Gosh, isn't now the time to be worried?"

Ron listened to the conversation, trying his best not to look too interested. It was all just a little confusing. What were the two of them talking about, and yet not talking about at the same time?

"Well, why don't we just give it a go anyway?" Harry said, getting to his feet. "Whatever you need the Cloak for must be pretty important. Maybe it's best I let you sweat it out, right?"

Kingsley clenched his jaw. "We've come so far, Mr Potter."

"I know, Mr Shacklebolt. Don't get me wrong, I strongly appreciate everything you've ever done for me and this new Ministry, but you had to know I wouldn't give up the Cloak for anything. There is a reason you want it and you're failing to tell anyone  
about it. I'm sure even Mr Weasley has no clue. So, until you can be straight with me, it will remain where it is. So let's quit all the Muggle antics then, why don't we?"

Kingsley tilted his head. "Mr Weasley, escort our mutual friend, Mr Potter here, to Miss Granger's office, if you would? Stay near, in case you're needed. I want a progress report by the end of the day."

Ron practically pulled Harry to his feet and dragged him out of the Minister's office. Once they were out of earshot, Ron rushed his words.

"You've got a fine set of balls on you, Potter, talking to our Minister like that," he said, leading the way to the elevators. "What the hell were you two going on about anyway?"

Harry looked at Ron as they walked. "Do you really have no idea?"

Ron didn't warrant the question with a response.

Harry sighed. "It's better you not know, Ron. Honestly. I wish I didn't even know."

Ron couldn't help but feel a bit confused. There had to be something he was missing. What was all this sudden interest with the Cloak of Invisibility anyway, and why wouldn't Harry be willing to hand it over when asked? He suspected that there were things  
in play that were beyond his pay grade, but his unease couldn't be denied. What did it all have to do with Harry?

The two boys found Hermione in her office. She was poring over a case file, looking as focused as ever. Both of them knew that look well. They'd spent some seven years marveling at her ability to lose herself in the written word.

Hermione was almost shocked by the sight of the two of them. She immediately rose to her feet, her eyes darting from boy to boy.

"I didn't think you were coming," she said to Harry.

He shrugged, before he made his way further into the office. "My escort here didn't really give me much of a choice," he said, referring to Ron. "And plus, if I intend to keep hold of my own possessions, I've got to hear you out."

That sentence confused Hermione, who looked at Ron for clarification but all he did was shake his head.

"Mind if I sit?" Harry asked, already moving to sit in one of the armchairs in front of Hermione's desk. "I do love what you've done with the place," he added once he was settled. "It's a little smaller than I imagined it would be, but I guess I was always  
a dreamer." He laughed even though nothing was funny. His words carried with them hidden meaning and snarky connotation. It was as if he was determined to anger them. He was succeeding.

Ron cleared his throat. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Hermione wanted to ask him to stay but, by the time she opened her mouth to speak, he was already out the door.

Harry smiled. "I guess it's just you and me." Then, more seriously: "Kind of like fourth year all over again, isn't it?"

Hermione returned to her seat and pushed aside all her other work. In a drawer to her right, she retrieved the Potter, Harry file she kept as her personal collection of Harry related information. Recently, there hadn't been much to add. But now she was  
looking right at him.

"Is that me?" Harry found himself asking, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Hermione nodded. "Everything I could figure out about your time away."

"Anything interesting?"

"You visited Peru." It was a statement, not a question. It was a fact she knew to be true.

He nodded. "I did indeed visit many places. Didn't have access to a Portkey. I'll have you know that flying in an aeroplane is incredibly stifling. They literally pack people like sardines."

Hermione didn't want to participate in casual conversation, mainly because they weren't those kinds of friends anymore. She needed to remain professional and he wasn't making it easy.

"You don't really appreciate being able to Apparate until you can't anymore."

Hermione imagined that to be true. Apparition was one of the more useful attributes of being a witch. There were, of course, many others, but who was counting?

Harry sat back. "So how do you suppose you're going to fix me?" he asked.

"I thought you were the one who said you didn't need fixing."

Harry pretended to think hard about that. "You know, you are right! I did say that, didn't I? So what am I doing here then?"

The silence that followed wiped the smirk right off Harry's face. His own thoughts were taking him dangerously close to an emotional vulnerability he wasn't yet ready to expose.

"I'm curious, Hermione," Harry said seriously. "Why did you bother to keep searching for a way to get my magic back after all this time; after the way I've treated you?"

Hermione had to admit that she spent many nights thinking about an answer to this very question, and she still had no suitable response. What she felt seemed irrelevant. It was about the work. "It was a puzzle I had to figure out," she told him, somewhat  
truthfully. "And now I have."

"Are you sure about that?"

The way he asked the question made her think that he must have known more about his own situation than he would like her to know. She supposed that he had figured things out about himself over the years. She would definitely have to run a series of tests  
on him. But then again, that wasn't her Department either. And she had more pressing cases to which she had to attend.

"So, I always thought I'd find you and Ron together, even married," he said. "Maybe even a kid already. But, nothing. What happened?"

Hermione didn't want to get anywhere near that topic of conversation.

"Please say that it had nothing to do with me," he said, sounding a bit sad about it. "You know that's the last thing I wanted."

"You didn't really care about the lot of us by the end, did you?"

Harry's hands fidgeted in his lap, the facade slowly slipping away. "Of course I did."

"Not enough to say goodbye. Not even enough to let us know that you're okay; that you're alive."

Harry looked at her. "You're mad. You have every right to be."

"Of course I do! I just wish that you had said goodbye."

Harry leaned forward. "But, Hermione, I did say goodbye."

She frowned, silently asking the question of what he was possibly talking about.

His eyes drifted towards a spot on her desk, where she kept a collection of trinkets. Some of them were deeply meaningful and some others were meaningless things she had accumulated over the years. Despite that, all of them were important to her. Even  
the one she had found in the trunk she kept at the Burrow the Christmas she discovered Harry to be gone. Until that very moment, she had thought it purely coincidence that she would find a perfect Phoenix feather among her things.

Hermione's eyes widened. "The feather? That was you?"

Harry didn't answer her query. "I'm sorry about you and Ron," he said instead. "It seems he's found someone though. Ginny as well. Why haven't you?"

There was a little too much going on for Hermione to sift through. The feather. Harry had said goodbye in his own way; a way that meant he didn't have to explain himself. And, how on earth did he know about Ron? Or her? Or Ginny?

"I spotted some flowers," he continued. "It seems to me that Cormac hasn't dropped his fascination."

"Why are you so interested in all of that?" she found herself asking. "Are you trying to tell me that you've found someone?"

Harry sat back, weighing his options. "As a matter of fact, I have." That was all he would say.

Hermione just managed to keep the surprise off her face, even though she was certain she felt something twist within her. It was a strange sensation, and she had absolutely no idea where it came from.

"Now, where do you want to start with this whole regaining of my magic thing?"

Hermione checked the time. "I was actually expecting you earlier. I have things scheduled for this afternoon. You should have called."

That garnered a trademark - yet unseen - smirk from Harry. "Perhaps another time then."

Hermione looked into his green eyes and saw the person she knew. He was in there, hiding himself for some reason. Somehow, she would have to get him out to help him; to get the magic back. But she wasn't ready for it today. Being alone with him was too  
overwhelming. "Perhaps."

As if sensing an end to proceedings, Hermione's office door opened to reveal Ron, as stoic as ever. "You signalled?" His attention was on Hermione.

"We're done for today."

Ron didn't ask any questions of her in Harry's presence. Instead, he arranged for Dean and Seamus to accompany Harry back to the bakery.

Harry tipped his head in Hermione's direction. "Until next time, Miss Granger." Then in Ron's direction: "Auror Weasley." And then he was whisked away.

Once Harry was gone, Ron made quick work of retrieving his wand from his wrist holster and muttering wards to give himand Hermione some privacy within her office. Hermione didn't think it was weird, just unusual. They hadn't been alone in a concealed  
room since before their relationship ended.

Ron rushed his question. "Did Harry say anything to you?"

Hermione frowned, wary of the severity of Ron's tone. "Umm, you'll probably have to be a bit more specific with your question, Ronald. We talked about a lot of things."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Okay, in your _endless_ conversation with Harry, did he happen to mention anything to do with the Cloak of Invisibility?"

Before she asked her own question, she answered his. "No, he didn't. What's all this about, Ron?"

He moved to sit down in the chair Harry had recently vacated. "I don't know," he admitted. "Something just isn't right about all of this. Harry knows something. Kingsley is up to something."

"Why wouldn't he tell you?"

Ron shook his head. "Again, I have absolutely no idea."

Hermione had never once doubted Ron's ability as an Auror and she was not about to start. If he thought something was amiss about their lives, then there had to be something off. "What do you think Harry knows?"

Ron sat forward. "My gut is telling me that whatever he knows is the reason he left."

Hermione wasn't as shocked as she thought Ron figured she would be. In fact, that made a lot more sense to her. Harry usually had a reason for everything, and his reasons very rarely involved himself.

"I know what I'm about to say sounds crazy but," he hesitated; "I think that the Order might have had something to do with Harry losing his powers."

Hermione just stared at him. "Ronald, that's absurd!"

"Is it, Hermione? Is it really?"

"Listen to what you're suggesting. Honestly. You do realise who is in the Order, right? We're talking about people who fought with us against Voldemort. What reason would they have?"

"I don't know," he said. "And I did say it would sound crazy. Look, I think that something happened, and there is so much that Harry knows and never bothered to tell us."

"That seems to be a trend," she muttered, replaying her conversation with Harry. "He knew about us, you know?" she informed him.

"Us?"

"That we dated, and that we stopped. He knows we're not together anymore."

Ron nodded. "I don't think that's the biggest news, Hermione. He could have figured that out in a number of ways."

"When he asked me about you and the Weasleys and Neville and Luna the other day; he acted like he had absolutely no idea how they were. But today, today was different. He knew about me, and about you, and about Ginny. He knew things. Like he's always  
known."

Ron frowned. "But how?"

Hermione just shook her head.

He cleared his throat. "Hermione, I think that we need to talk to Harry."


	5. Chapter 5

LChapter Five

After work on that same Monday, Ron and Hermione Apparated to Harry's bakery shop. Thankfully, it was still open. It actually turned into a neat little bistro when the sun set. Several couples now claimed the tables and Ron and Hermione walked in just  
like any other. Of course, before they left the Ministry, they had changed. Ron's walking around in his Auror uniform would have been enough to turn heads.

Hermione was dressed like a Muggle woman from work, in black slacks and a white blouse. Nothing seemed out of place as one of the waitresses showed the two of them to a table. Harry wasn't anywhere to be seen, and neither of them was particularly ready  
to ask for him just yet. They absently studied their menus for a few minutes.

"Are you reading these?" Ron asked, a mixture of amazement and concern in his tone. "He might as well have used A History of Magic to come up with all of these dish names."

Hermione looked around. "Do you think this is really his place? Like, his _his_?"

Ron nodded as his attention returned to the menu. "I don't think I could eat anything," he admitted after a while. "I find I'm a little nervous. Something is going on and I'm quite certain I'm not going to like it one little bit."

Hermione had to agree. Harry knew something, she was sure of it. Now, all they had to do was get him to tell them.

"Hello," a young waitress said as she approached, getting their attention. "My name is Anna and I will be your server this evening. Can I get you something to drink?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. Ron was the one who spoke. "Umm, well, actually, we were looking for Harry."

Anna stepped back ever so slightly. "Harry? Umm, Harry isn't here. He hasn't been back since some men came and dragged him out of here this morning."

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. "That's strange," Hermione said.

Anna nodded. "I'll say. He hasn't missed a day of work since he reopened this place." She sounded proud, her admiration getting the better of her. "I can check in with Julia, if you'd like. She's in the back, manning the kitchen."

"Julia?" Ron asked.

"Julia. Harry's girlfriend."

The floor seemed to fall out from under Hermione. He'd said he had found someone but she never allowed herself to believe it.

Ron looked over at Hermione to see her looking particularly grief-stricken. Merlin, it was worse than he initially thought. Maybe coming had been a bad idea. He watched as Hermione's facial expression eventually turned to one of utmost focus. This was  
work-related. She could handle it.

"Please could you," Ron said to Anna. "It's kind of important that we speak with him."

With a quick smile and a nod of her head, Anna turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen. About a minute later, Anna returned, followed by a woman who Ron would have to describe as a Muggle Hermione. She, like the woman sitting opposite him,  
had brown frizzy hair, brown eyes and she looked about as accomplished as he always knew Hermione to be.

Once the two women arrived at the table, Hermione was sure she wouldn't be able to speak. Julia was beautiful, way pastpretty. Harry had chosen well.

"I understand you're asking about Harry," Julia said, cutting right to it. At their nods, Julia sent Anna to see to other customers. Then she went down on her haunches and dropped the volume of her voice. "He said you would come," she said, surprising  
them both.

Ron frowned.

"Don't worry," Julia said, risking a smile. "He hasn't told me anything. All he said when he got back today was that he was sure you would come. And, when you did, I should send you to the house."

So she did.

Ron took the lead getting the address and thanking her before he and Hermione took a cab to 87 Bollinger Rd, Coventry. Ron opted for Muggle travel, mainly to give Hermione a bit more time to recover.

It was a modest house, Hermione would say. It looked like something Harry would live in; something practical and understated. Pretty much exactly like him.

When Harry answered the door, Hermione had to bite back her gasp. Harry could barely stand up straight and he was bruised and bleeding as if someone had attacked him from the inside out. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had been tortured.  
But why? And for what?

"Took you long enough," Harry muttered as he ushered them in, and then locked the door behind them. It was such a Muggle thing to do and he almost laughed at its absurdity. Even First Years could get through that _ward_.

Ron and Hermione moved into the living room of the house and waited while Harry made his way back to them. It took everything Hermione had not to see to him. She was rather desperate to perform some healing magic on him but she had no idea how a Muggle  
would react to it.

Harry made his way into an armchair and invited them both to sit. Ron and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the couch, years of practice coming into play. They had started their routine of making sure other people weren't awkward around them the first  
time that Ron had introduced his current girlfriend to her. It had been about three years since then.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"You would think that I would have developed a better tolerance to pain over the years, but it turns out I haven't," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Who did this to you?" Ron asked, wishing desperately that Harry wouldn't say that it had been Dean and Seamus.

"People," he said. "Well, magical people. None that I know, that's for sure. I don't think anyone who actually knows me could have been able to perform the Cruciatus Curse."

"What!" Hermione said, leaning forward. "Harry, who would do such a thing?"

Harry shook his head. "I told you. People. I don't know."

"You're lying," Ron said. "We know when you're lying, Harry."

"Well, you don't want to know then," he said. "What I do need to know is what exactly the two of you are doing here?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "We know something's up," Ron said. "Your conversation with Kingsley was strange, to say the least."

"And you seem to have expected us," Hermione pointed out. "What is that all about?"

"Kingsley wants the Cloak of Invisibility for a reason," Harry said. "I won't give it to him, and I won't tell him where it is."

"Kingsley?" Hermione asked. "Why would he need it?"

Ron looked at Harry. "It isn't just Kingsley, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "I believe it's the Order. It was formed during a war, then disbanded, and then reunited for our war with Voldemort. They need a purpose, and I think they've been planning something from the moment they found out about the prophecy."

"Dumbledore?"

Harry's features hardened at the mention of the name. Even years later, his feelings regarding the man were somewhat unresolved. "Probably," he concluded.

Hermione sat forward. "Harry, do you know what happened to your magic?"

He shook his head. "All I know is that it was gone after Voldemort fell. As if my abilities were linked to him, like everything else."

It was Ron who spoke next. "Okay. More importantly, do you think that the Order had something to do with the loss of your magic?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. Then, he affirmed, and the other two in the room went very quiet. A truth like that was a lot to take in and nobody quite knew what to say for a good few minutes.

Hermione recovered first. "How can you be sure?"

Harry just managed to raise his arms, wincing as he did. "Look at me." Then, more seriously: "And Kingsley may have told me. Sort of. Not directly."

"What? When?" Ron asked.

"After Hermione left for Hogwarts," he admitted. "He stopped by Piccadilly Circus and all but admitted to the Order thinking it would be best if I remained a Muggle. He suggested I relocate, but only after I handed over the Cloak. I left the next day."

"But why? What is this all about?" Hermione asked. "I mean, you must have some theories, Harry. Why would they want you to be powerless?"

It was Ron who answered. "Because they're afraid of him." He took a deep breath. "They've always been afraid of him. The most famous wizard in the world, who cheated death as a toddler. Who grew up to face and defeat the darkest wizard they've ever come  
across. Who wouldn't be afraid of how powerful he was?"

"So they just took his magic away?" Hermione still couldn't believe it. "I mean, how would they even do that? I mean, I have my theory, and it seemed entirely plausible until right now. If they actually _took_ his magic away, we're not dealing with  
a simple reversal anymore."

"A simple reversal?" Ron asked her. "You told me it was a complicated procedure?"

Hermione didn't comment on that. "And who in the Order would have agreed? Honestly. The last time I checked, weren't we members of the Order? Why wouldn't we have been consulted about something like this? And, again, who in the Order would have agreed?"

They were all very good questions; questions that nobody had answers to. Harry had been alone with this information for so long, with nobody to turn to.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked. "Did you think we were part of it? Didn't you trust us?"

Harry was saved from a response by a key turning in the lock of the front door, and the door opening. Julia bundled in with her massive handbag and two plastics of wonderfully smelling food.

"Hi, guys," she said when she spotted them in the living room. She looked very calm, as if none of this was strange to her. "I brought dinner."

Harry gingerly rose to his feet. Hermione noticed the worry on Julia's face but the woman said nothing. She chose to believe it when he said he was fine. She knew she signed up for a guy with a dark past and several skeletons in his closet. She guessed  
that she had just met two.

"What about the shop?" Harry asked as he made his way towards her.

"Milo eventually showed up," she assured him. "It was rather quiet anyway. I deluded myself into thinking that you needed me here."

Harry eventually reached her. "No delusion. I always need you."

"Introduce me?"

Harry did the introductions quite quickly. "Julia Ahern, this is Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. We went to school together." It was a demotion, of course. They had been through so much more than just school. But both Ron and Hermione understood  
that Harry couldn't mention any of that. "Ron, Hermione, this is Julia, who I believe you met briefly at the shop?"

Ron nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Julia."

"Likewise," she said, smiling. Then she looked at Harry. "I'll be in the kitchen."

When they were alone, the once Golden Trio returned to worried silence. Harry could tell they would not be able to talk freely anymore. Although, he wasn't sure what more he could say. He had already given them enough to think about.

Hermione wanted to leave. She wanted to get up, walk out and never look back, but she knew she was incapable of such a thing. This was Harry. Her Harry. Even years after the end of the war, he was still facing a battle. Would it ever end? He had been  
stripped of his powers, and yet the magical world still needed something from him.

Ron, Hermione, Harry and Julia sat down to a very thoughtful dinner. Julia had insisted they stay, even as both Ron and Hermione protested. Julia was a woman who usually got her way. Kind of like Hermione.

Julia asked questions about Harry mostly. They had to pick what they said carefully. Exposing themselves as witches and wizards was not an option.

It was a dinner that lasted much too long, and yet flew past. Harry walked them out when they insisted that it was getting late. Julia studiously offered them tea and cake but they politely declined. Hermione couldn't wait to get out of there. Watching  
Harry interact with Julia was particularly painful, and Ron seemed to notice. He expedited their leaving and they found themselves in front of the house at 87 Bollinger Rd, Coventry.

"Kingsley will expect you at the Ministry some time this week," Ron told Harry as they stood under the starry night. "To keep an eye on you, I suspect."

Harry looked at Hermione. "You'll tell me your theory about my magic when I drop by?"

She nodded.

Harry took a moment to look at each of them. "It isn't that I didn't trust you," he said, addressing the question from earlier. "I do. I've always trusted you. The Order runs deep in some places, and I didn't want to put you two in danger. I didn't want  
to taint what we had accomplished. I was the sacrificial lamb. They didn't expect me to live. Whatever happened, I was never going to stand in the way of whatever is happening now. The next best thing was ridding me of my magic."

"You'd rather be dead," Hermione whispered.

"And I'm not the only one who thinks it."

* * *

Ron and Hermione didn't rush back to London. They needed time to digest all they had learned. Harry was in love with a Muggle. The Order they'd fought with was responsible for Harry's loss of power. The Order was planning something unsavoury. They were  
corrupted. Someone, under the Order's order, had performed an Unforgivable Curse on Harry. On a Muggle. Which was worse.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked as they sat side by side in the train back to London.

Hermione hadn't said a word since they had left Harry's and Ron was beginning to worry. All she managed to do was shake her head.

"It's a lot to deal with," he said softly. "I don't want to believe it."

"He has no reason to lie."

"I know. It was all too good to be true then, wasn't it? There will always be another war, and there will always be traitors. I mean, everyone we know is in the Order, Hermione. My parents, my brothers, the other Aurors. Who can we trust? Who do we go  
to with all of this?"

"Nobody. We go to nobody, Ron. We realised long ago that nobody was going to save us. Harry knows that. He's always had to save himself."

"But he's a Muggle now, Hermione. It isn't the same. He would be useless against a wand. He can't protect himself the way he once could."

"Well, that's why he has us."

"Just you and me?"

Hermione sighed. "Whatever the Order's got planned has to involve people who weren't part of Dumbledore's Army. They would never agree to something as horrendous as stripping Harry of his magic. However they did it, it had to involve old, maybe dark,  
magic. My bet is on the old members, who were around when Dumbledore first formed it. They had to have been planning this for quite some time."

"Harry said they didn't expect him to survive Voldemort."

"And taking his magic was the contingency plan. They were afraid of what he could become. He was, at the time, the strongest wizard around. And, with the Elder Wand, he would have been impossible to defeat, if ever he stood in their way."

"Do you think they were afraid of what would happen if he ever turned against them?" Ron asked.

"Another Voldemort?"

Ron shuddered. "I suppose they were allowed to be afraid. But this is all a little extreme, isn't it?"

Hermione relaxed ever so slightly. "At least they won't kill him," she said, as if that were the only silver lining of the day. "They need him alive. He seems to be the only one who knows where the Cloak is."

"Well, we need to figure out why they want it."

Hermione took out a pen and paper from her handbag and started on a concealed list. "And who's involved in all of this."

"Kingsley, definitely. The bloody Minister of Magic. Of course. Has that position never led to some sort of trouble?"

"We can't let him know that we suspect something is going on," Hermione said seriously. "Right now, I'd say our first advantage is that he believes we're oblivious to what's happening."

"Do you think he thinks Harry will end up telling us where the Cloak is?"

"We should make sure he doesn't tell us," she said, appreciating how his Auror training was coming into play. "There are ways of getting the truth out of people."

"Like an Unforgivable Curse," Ron said sadly. "I still can't believe it. And he withstood it. You know they'll try again, right?"

"I know."

"Things are going to happen quite quickly now," he said, as more of a warning. "We aren't going to be following Harry into battle now."

"He's going to be following us."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Harry's next visit to the Ministry was requested by the Minister. He wanted the once wizard under his roof to keep eyes on him; even to intimidate him. Kingsley should have known that it wouldn't work on the strong, impregnable mind of Harry Potter.

Upon his arrival, Ron escorted him to Hermione's office, where the three of them had a private conversation. Ron and Hermione told Harry of the things they had discovered over the few days since the truth of the Order was revealed to them. The first thing they told him was that there were, indeed, meetings of the Order that occurred without their knowledge.

"My father calls them night meetings," Ron explained. "He's been having them since I can remember. They are reserved for the original members, and those who followed Dumbledore blindly."

"The ones who voted to have you lose your power," Hermione added.

"How is it that they could actually do that?" Harry asked.

Hermione waited a beat before she responded. "Well, several factors go into it. For starters, the wizard in question has to, at least, have expressed even the slightest inclination to what was trying to be accomplished."

Harry looked embarrassed by that sentence. It was true that he had sometimes wished he wasn't a wizard, but he never actually meant it. Well, not really. There were times that he had, and he hated that that fact played a part in getting him into his current predicament.

"Your reserves were also rather depleted after the Battle," Hermione pointed out. "They used the opportunity to attack. You were weak and susceptible to their exploits, and they were successful."

"So where did my magic go? Is it just gone? Is it suppressed? Did they take it and spread it among themselves?"

"Those are all brilliant questions, Harry, but I'm afraid I have limited answers. I promise to tell you what I do know."

Ron took the opportunity to remove himself from the office and stand guard, merely to keep up appearances. He ignored the panicked look on Hermione's face as he left, leaving the two of them alone. Ron would have thought Hermione would be ecstatic, but the proud witch just seemed that bit more uneasy around Harry than she had been before she knew about and met Julia.

It just seemed too weird for Hermione. Twenty three was an age that she couldn't wrap her head around. It felt like things had to happen, and people were going to start looking at her the way they were looking at Ron and Neville. Who was it who decided any age was the right age to settle down?

"When you were locked in with Voldemort; what were you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

Harry didn't have to think about it. "You."

Hermione's breath caught.

Sensing his mistake, he continued hurriedly. "And Ron, I suppose. And Ginny. I was thinking about my parents. I was thinking that I didn't want to die."

"Harry, be straight with me. What were you really thinking about? I need to know."

He took a breath, readying himself for the embarrassment. "Okay, I was. I was thinking about you, and what you had said before I went into the Forbidden Forest."

Hermione didn't need to be reminded of the moments before she watched her friend walk to his death. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Too much and nothing at all had happened in the years since. "I remember you mentioned that you had seen your parents when you and Voldemort locked wands during fourth year. Did that happen again?"

Harry shook his head. "They weren't with me _that_ time," he said, sounding a bit sad about it. It all added to Hermione's belief that they would have to save themselves. "It was just me and Voldemort. It took everything I had for my spell to reach him. And then it did, and then he fell. Just like that. Just like the mortal man that he was."

"What did you feel when that happened?"

"Relieved mostly. And tired. I think we hadn't slept for days by that point. We also hadn't eaten. I remember the silence being really loud. Everything seemed to stop when he was defeated. The War was over. And I was a Muggle."

Hermione was writing all of this down, even though there were things she already knew. Like her next question: "When did you realise your magic was gone?"

"When I tried to Apparate to the Burrow. We thought it was just fatigue, or the wand. But it wasn't. My magic was gone."

Hermione scribbled a few more words before she stopped and looked up at him. "Now, Professor McGonagall mentioned that it could have been psychological," she said. "Have you tried to perform magic since you left?"

Harry nodded. "Every month, on the full moon, I try. It's normally small things, like shifting things around in the kitchen or trying to unlock a locked door. Nothing."

"So you still have your wand?"

"Hidden in my sock drawer," he said with a laugh. "Can you imagine? How Muggle is that, honestly?"

She couldn't help but smile. He seemed better, as if he had somehow accepted his Muggle status. She also suspected that he believed that he would never get his powers back, or that he didn't actually want them back.

"If it is psychological, then I don't know how much good I can do," he explained. "I'm not sure I have the mental capacity to overcome it."

Hermione just nodded. "Personally, I don't think it's psychological. I remember how desperate you were, Harry. You would have done anything and everything to get your magic back."

He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry about the way I treated you," he said, his voice dropping in volume. "I'm not going to make any excuses. That was all me. I just, well, I didn't know how to deal with all of it, and I needed you to be safe. Away from me. I'd already put you and Ron through so much. It was better for all of us."

"I'm going to stop you right there, Harry Potter. This, I believe, is a conversation we can have at a later stage, because you're not allowed to disappear again. We kind of have more pressing things to handle right now."

He risked a smile. "Right, of course. This whole magic thing. If it's not psychological, what is it?"

Hermione rose to her feet. "I've been working on something," she explained, as she stepped out from behind her desk. "It's an instrument that detects wards and charms and possible potions. I managed to combine things from several of Dumbledore's instruments into one. I'd like to see if it works on you."

When Harry agreed, he didn't anticipate what it would entail. Really, the entire thing reminded him of the time they used the time turner in their third year at Hogwarts. Hermione was standing right in front of him, her body almost touching his.

"I'm sorry about this," she said, fighting the blush. "I have to use my magic to work it on you."

Harry didn't say anything as he forced himself to remain perfectly still. It was a little too close for comfort and all he was thinking about was what Julia would think of their current position.

Hermione couldn't look at him. She hadn't really thought this through. What a stupid ridiculous instrument!

"You smell like lemongrass," Harry whispered.

"My shampoo," she let him know, as she fiddled with the instrument she held in her hands between them. It was a sort of dial, with a screen. It was designed to be used by only her, as she was probably the only person who could understand the results. "I have to do something to tame this hair."

"I like it."

Hermione needed to keep them focused. As always, she used her teacher voice; one that Harry was very used to. "I'm going to need you to close your eyes, Harry. Think of something happy, like you're casting a Patronus." As she said it, she hoped he wouldn't think of anything to do with Julia. It was a selfish thought but she couldn't help it.

Harry immediately closed his eyes and Hermione watched as a steady smile took shape across his face. For a moment, everything was still. If she could have, Hermione would have liked to freeze time. Harry was here, right in front of her. He was safe, and she had a sickening feeling that freezing time was the only way she could keep him that way.

Harry opened one of his eyes to peak at her.

"Eyes closed," she reprimanded. Then she took hold of his hands, not mistaking the sudden shock of electricity that shot through her body. At school, Hermione had never been shy when it came to hugging or touching him, but this was the first contact they had made since they made their reacquaintance just over a week ago.

The entire reading took about two minutes. Hermione had her own eyes closed as well, which did wonders to calm her racing heart. If she couldn't see him, she could imagine that he wasn't so close. Except that she could feel him. The heat of his body was radiating all over her.

To mark the end of the reading, the instrument pinged, which made Harry let out a light laugh. Hermione felt his breath on the tip of her nose and did her best not to make a sound. She opened her eyes and released his hands. "We're done," she said, retrieving the instrument and stepping away from him.

Without saying a word, Harry pulled her back towards him and enfolded her in his arms. Hermione managed to keep in her surprise as her arms moved to hold his waist.

"I'm sorry," Harry eventually whispered, only tightening his hold. "I've been dying to do this since you walked into the shop."

Hermione felt her body relax. "Me too," she admitted.

Harry held her for a few more seconds before he released her. "I really have missed you."

She stepped back. "You've got a funny way of showing it," she teased, before she returned to her seat and set the instrument on the desk in front of her.

Harry also returned to his seat, a trademark smirk framing his face. He bit back his response, mainly in fear of revealing too much about how he had spent the past years of his life. He sat back in his chair and watched as she fiddled with her strange instrument. She wrote things down and made absent sounds as she deciphered the results. Harry was deeply curious but he didn't ask any questions. She would tell him when she was good and ready.

"Okay," she eventually sounded. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Good."

"Well, you are under no charms or spells," she assured him. "No external magic is acting on you. You also aren't being fed a magic suppressing potion."

"And the bad, I presume, relates to the fact that I have no internal magic either?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said sadly. "You magical core is, essentially empty." When he didn't respond, she added, "At least we know now."

"That it's gone? That it's just gone. I mean, is it just hanging up in the air, waiting to be rediscovered and returned? Or has it been dissipated into the air and that's it? I never get it back?"

She looked at him for a long time. "You preferred not knowing, didn't you?"

He crossed his arms across his chest. "I managed to put it behind me, you know? I let the magic go, and I moved on with my life the only way I could. It was hard, I'll give you that, but I did it. I looked at it as a bit of a blessing. Without my magic, I didn't have to be Harry _Potter_. But, it turns out, Potter will never leave me."

"No it won't," she agreed. "You can't expect that to change just because the war is over, Harry. Everyone loves a hero."

"Just, nobody thought that the ones that were supposed to be heroes might turn out to be villains."

They sat in silence, allowing those thoughts to exist between them. If they were right, the entire Ministry was corrupt. Which pretty much left them with an even bigger problem. Still, Hermione had no idea who they could turn to. Well, she did. There were people who weren't part of it, she was sure. All they had to do now was try to figure out on which side everyone was. And the sooner they did that, the sooner they could end whatever was brewing.

She couldn't deny that she could feel something was happening. Similar to the times of Voldemort, suddenly things seemed ominous. They were supposed to be living happy and peaceful lives. Harry was right. Hadn't they done enough to earn an uncomplicated life? Hadn't Harry?

Talking about his lack of magic seemed to hurt Harry's mood quite severely, so Hermione attempted to move the conversation on to something else. Which didn't work out so well, because they quickly found themselves talking about the fact that he had actually left. He'd gone and he had left a cryptic goodbye. She even let him know that she had spent the better part of two years searching tirelessly for him.

"And then I find out that you're actually just a few kilometres away, literally down the road, happily living your own life without giving us so much as a thought!"

He gauged her tone, and her facial expression. "You're mad?"

"Well, of course I'm mad," she said, huffing. "You thought you had to go at it alone; that we wouldn't be there for you? I mean, honestly, Harry, I know not all the time was dandelions and roses, but we are the ones that were with you through it all. Who are you to decide anything for us? How dare you just leave?"

Harry just blinked, trying to absorb her pent up anger.

"And why couldn't you just tell us? Tell me? Did you really think I wouldn't understand? Or were you just so damn stubborn and self-absorbed that you didn't even consider how I would feel not knowing where you were?"

Harry didn't get a chance to respond because Ron chose that moment to knock and enter the office, cutting into Harry and Hermione's awkward moment.

"Are you two about done?" he asked. "I do have other work to do, you know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, almost relieved by the redhead's arrival. "Liar. We all know Kingsley has you keeping an eye on Harry."

He moved to sit in the armchair beside Harry. "Well I'm bored just standing outside. Tell me what we know."

Hermione was quick to respond. "The good news is that there are no hidden charms or spells currently inflicted on him," she said. "And the bad news it that I haven't detected any magic. At all."

Ron looked at Harry. "Sorry, mate." Then, to both of them: "So what happens now?"

The boys looked at Hermione, who cleared her throat before she started to speak. "The next part is tricky," she admitted. "I conceded that I expected to find something, anything, so I'm going to have to go at it the long way." Neither boy spoke. "We know that it takes a witch or wizard at least eleven years to be strong enough to control and channel their magic. It is something we're already born with. Harry, right now, does not carry even the slightest inkling towards magic, which tells me two things about how getting the magic back will have to happen."

"What?" Ron prompted, wishing she would just get to it already.

Her eyes darted between the boys. "Well, one, umm, Harry's magic would never reestablish itself without external intervention."

"And two?" Harry prompted this time.

She swallowed, and then she told them. When she was done, she waited for their reactions, but they both looked a bit stunned. "Ron? Harry? Merlin, say something."

Harry just shook his head. "But we don't have to do any of that right now, do we?"

Hermione was quick to respond. "Not right now, no. I'm thinking that we should figure out _exactly_ what the Order did to you before we start, in case there really is _another_ way to reverse it."

"And maybe also figure out why they want the Cloak as badly as they do," Ron added. Anything to postpone whatever Hermione told them would have to be done. In fact, he hoped that there was another way entirely. "Speaking of the Order," Ron said. "I do have news of my own though." He waited, clearly enjoying their expectant looks.

"Ron!" they said in unison.

He laughed. "Just like old times," he muttered. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you. I just heard from Mum that she's having the kids over for dinner tomorrow night. Friday." That garnered no response from either of the other two. "Apparently Dad has one of those night meetings."

Hermione perked up at that. "Interesting."

"So," Ron said, turning towards Harry. "You coming for dinner or what?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ron and Hermione arrived at 87 Bollinger Rd at a little after eight o'clock on that Friday evening. Harry told them it was safe to Apparate into the backyard, which was where he was waiting, already dressed and ready to go. He was actually wearing painfully  
Muggle clothing, and Ron pointed that out to him.

"You forget, Ron, but I am a Muggle," Harry said, his tone layered in snark. "I'll have you know that I look a lot better than you."

Hermione just watched them in mild amusement. Wow, she had missed her boys. "Okay, okay, you can whip them out and measure later. Right now, I think we have a dinner to get to."

Harry and Ron stared at her, each of them shocked.

"Hermione Granger," Harry said, exaggerating a gasp. "I never."

Despite herself, Hermione laughed. She put her hand out for him to take. "Let's go."

The Trio decided it would be better if Harry waited a while to make his entrance. Ron had tried to get details on his father's secret meeting but everyone seemed very tight-lipped about the entire thing. Hermione convinced him that they probably didn't  
know what it was about. And the fact that all but one of Ron's brothers weren't privy to the night meeting meant that they probably weren't involved with whatever was going on in the Order.

Harry hid himself behind a tree, which actually made him laugh.

"What?" Hermione queried before she and Ron made their way to the house.

"It's just, well, I kind of own a Cloak of Invisibility, and I'm hiding behind a tree," he said, smirking.

Ron ignored the remark, his mind focused on the task at hand. "Okay, Hermione and I are going to go in there and suss out what we can about the meeting. Mum mentioned that Percy was going with Dad to the meeting, which really means one thing. That filthy  
mongrel."

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "Don't make assumptions."

He shook his head. "It's Percy, Hermione." That was all he needed to say. "Anyway, everyone will probably be really excited to see Harry. That's all fine and dandy, but we're going to have to be alert for reactions. Especially when we tell them that Hermione's  
figured out a way to get his magic back. I'm not sure what we're looking for but if you suspect anything, anything at all, give the signal."

"And what exactly is the signal, Ronald?" Hermione asked.

Ron laughed. "Well, we have a few options..."

Once they decided - well, Ron decided and Harry and Hermione didn't have the will to argue - Harry watched Ron and Hermione walk towards the Burrow.

The Burrow. Now, there were a lot of memories. Not all of them good, he had to admit. There had been a fair share of loss around the house.

Harry waited some twenty five minutes before he made the trek to the back door to the Burrow. It was almost surreal, an out of body experience, as he walked through the door to a table full of open mouths and wide eyes. It was Molly Weasley who recovered  
first, rising and rushing to crush him in a motherly hug. From there, Harry was flooded with hugs and questions of where he had been for the better part of five years.

He managed to avoid giving any answers as he took in all of them. Altogether there seemed to be a hundred people around the table. Molly, of course, headed the table in her husband's absence. Bill and a very pregnant Fleur were present. And Charlie, who  
looked more out of place than all of them. Harry would have to say that he actually _looked_ Romanian. Percy was out somewhere, meeting with people who were planning on committing an atrocity. George had a stupid smile on his face as he stared  
at Harry, clearly wanting to say something of which his mother would strongly disapprove.

Of course there was Ron, who looked quite chuffed with himself, at the fact that he knew of Harry's reappearance. And then there was Ginny, who was sitting quietly, unmoving and unresponsive. Before Harry moved towards her, he was greeted by Angelina  
Johnson, Neville Longbottom, and by Luna Lovegood. They needn't have told him what they were doing there. Harry knew. Hermione didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

Harry spent a moment with Ginny, hugging her and assuring her that he hadn't died. He also apologised for the way things had ended, and that was that.

Molly quickly got their attentions and stated that they should get back to eating. She set a place for Harry right by her, desperate to have him close. He had been gone for so long; she wouldn't let him out of her sight again.

Conversation took off about things Harry-related. Ron divulged that Harry was happily working with food, which made Ginny raise an eyebrow.

"From what I remember, you struggle with frying bacon," she pointed out.

"I've improved considerably," he said, just managing to laugh at himself. "And I don't do the actual cooking. Just the baking. Requires different skills."

Somehow, they got onto the topic of his magic, and Hermione was able to mention that she thought she found a way to get it back. After her revelation, everyone was silent for a moment. Ron, Harry and Hermione looked from one person to the next, trying  
to gauge their reactions. So far, nothing.

"That's brilliant, Harry," George said, beaming. "Trust Hermione to be the one to figure it out."

"She never gave up on you," Ginny said, somewhat seriously. _Not like the rest of us_ , she didn't add, even though it was implied.

Thankfully, none of the trio had to make use of the signal. Just yet. Harry would have been particularly embarrassed if he had. Conversation continued about Harry's magic, and Hermione mentioned that they were close to finding a way to get it back. Very  
close.

It wasn't until Ron threw his head back and then forward, coughed violently and literally spat onto the floor that the conversation fell to shocked silence.

Harry immediately paled, his heart rate rising dangerously. Who? Who was it?

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, who used his eyes to indicatehis mother. Harry's face fell, a feeling of utter defeat taking hold of him. No, not Molly. She couldn't be part of it.

Hermione, however perplexed she was, was just relieved she hadn't had to give the signal. It was truly disgusting, which Ginny so aptly pointed out.

"Eew, Ron, that's gross!" she exclaimed, pulling a face. "Honestly, were you born in a barn?"

Ron ignored her, his attention focused on his mother. "Mum, what time did you say Dad would be back?"

Molly pried her eyes away from the clock she had been consistently checking since Harry's arrival. "I didn't actually say."

Harry pushed on. "When is Mr Weasley returning?" he asked politely. "I would very much like to say hello."

Molly's lack of response was a fact not lost on any of the other children. In fact, George even went so far as to join in, querying about his father's night meeting.

"He didn't say," Molly eventually responded. "You know how the Ministry can be. If anyone should understand, it should be you kids."

"The Ministry?" Hermione asked.

"I thought Dad's night meetings were to do with the Order," George pointed out, and the Golden Trio sent him a mental thank you.

Molly looked perplexed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Mum?" Ginny queried.

Molly waited a beat before she responded strongly, having recovered. "I don't know," she said. "I stopped asking about your father's night meetings a long time ago." The way she said it almost told Harry that she might have known something, but she wasn't  
particularly in support of it.

Conversation managed to move on past that, with Luna reprimanding Ron for his horrific table manners. What was odd though was that Molly had nothing to say about the spitting incident. And all the children noticed. Molly seemed particularly fidgety.

It was plain for the trio to see that, even if she wasn't involved in whatever the Order was trying to do, she did know something. Hermione kept her eye on Harry as he forced himself to get through the rest of the evening.

It was almost midnight by the time Harry was allowed to leave. Molly made a point of keeping Harry close but Arthur Weasley did not return. By the end of it, Harry knew that he didn't actually want to see the man. He wanted to leave and possibly never  
come back. He'd discovered a little too much for one night, and all he wanted was to go home.

Ron, Luna and Hermione left with Harry. They walked a ways away from the Burrow before Luna brought them all to a stop.

"All right. I know something is going on," she said it matter-of-factly; as if it was an observation that didn't quite alarm her. Calm as ever, Luna Lovegood. "Harry wouldn't just show up here for no reason." She looked at Harry. "Although, it is mightily  
fantastic to see you, Harry."

Harry managed a smile.

"I think you would have told me if it was important enough," Luna continued, looking at Ron. "But you're not telling me because it's dangerous." It wasn't an accusation; it was more of a statement. Another one of her spot-on observations. "So all I have  
left to do is ask if there is anything I can do to help."

The Golden Trio just stared in silence. Of course, what would they have expected? This was Luna they were dealing with. Ron would have flung his arms around Luna and exclaimed how wonderful she was, but Hermione beat him to it.

The boys just watched in amusement as the two girls displayed just how close they really were. Over the years, after Hermione managed to get past all the inner turmoil of her ex-boyfriend starting to date one of her friends, she and Luna had become the  
best of friends. Which wasn't always the best thing for Ron. He mentioned that to Harry while they waited. Then he got very serious again.

"I actually can't believe her," Ron said, referring to his mother. "I can't believe it."

Again, Hermione put a hand on his arm. "Don't make assumptions."

"I'll damn well make assumptions," Ron said, sounding particularly frustrated. "She knows something."

"So why don't we just ask her?" Harry asked curiously. "I don't think she would lie."

"But would she really admit to being part of the reason you're a Muggle, Harry?" Hermione pointed out.

"I wouldn't," Luna said, catching on and doing her best not to convey her dismay at what she managed to decipher from their conversation. "I assume you're talking about your mother."

Ron merely nodded.

"In her eyes, whatever Mr Weasley has done is bad, but she will protect him without a fault," Hermione said. "In the end, Arthur is family."

"And I'm not," Harry said weakly. It was a truth that sat in the air for about a minute. Even the people who Harry had once considered family couldn't be trusted entirely.

Ron, using his Auror experience, moved on from the morbid talk, to even more morbid talk. "I don't see a way forward right now," he admitted. "Sure, we can ask my mother what she knows, but she will probably talk to my father about it, and then the entire  
Order two point oh will know that we know that they're up to some sketchy things."

The three others just stared at him, trying to figure out where all of that came from. It was Hermione who asked him about it.

"What?" Ron said innocently, even shrugging. "My best friend became a Muggle. I had to brush up on some terminology."

If Luna could have loved him any more than she already did, she probably would have. Harry didn't think he could say anything even if he tried. He subconsciously stepped towards the redhead, and Hermione seemed to gravitate towards the boys. Even after  
so many years apart, the Golden Trio easily fell into their own ways: going at the world together.

Luna watched them with a certain curiosity. There was no part of her that wondered where it was she fit into this world of theirs. She was by no means deluded into thinking she could be the one to infiltrate or even figure out what it was that made the  
Trio who they were. They had been through too much together for anyone else to understand, even remotely.

"Kingsley wants Harry at the Ministry on Monday," Ron said. "I'm going to try to find out what I can from him without drawing too much attention to myself."

Hermione wanted to protest but they all knew that Ron was their best chance of getting information from Kingsley because, as much as Harry pressed, Kingsley wouldn't reveal much else. Or would he?

"I could have a go at him," Harry said, involuntarily standing up taller. "Out of all of us, I'm supposed to be the only one who knows anything about what the Order might be up to. I think that if I were to be alone in a room with him, I could get him  
to say things he wouldn't normally say in the presence of others."

Hermione was already shaking her head. "No. It's too dangerous. He's already authorised the Cruciatus Curse on you. Whose to say he won't do it again if you push him hard enough?"

Harry gave her a look that told her that he didn't really care. He had faced it before and he could face it again. "I can handle it."

"Harry," Hermione sounded. "Think of Julia."

Harry's features hardened. "I am thinking of her. It won't end until I make it end. And what good am I if I've got the Order and the Ministry on my back?" he asked, irritated with the mention of Julia, as if he wasn't already thinking of her. "She's in  
more danger now than she ever was, and I'm just a Muggle. I can't even protect her. So I really don't need you to tell me to think about her, okay, Hermione. Trust me, she's all I ever think about anyway."

The awkwardness that followed Harry's outburst was almost too much to handle. Hermione didn't know what to say and the fact that Harry still seemed annoyed wasn't helping. Ron just looked at Hermione sympathetically and Luna watched the interaction with  
keen interest. Harry said what he said for a reason; a reason she was sure he didn't even know existed.

Now was not the time to point that out though.

Ron stepped forward. "Listen, mate, don't worry about Julia. I'll put up some protection enchantments around the house, and the shop. She'll be safe, I promise."

That did very little to calm Harry. The truth was that he felt rather guilty about his outburst but he was too proud to say so. What was worse was that he had no idea from where it came. It was just something about having Hermione mention Julia that made  
him feel unworthy; like he had to overcompensate for something.

"I should probably get back," Harry said, his eyes drifting from Ron to Hermione.

Luna watched Harry's gaze soften. For a moment, she was sure he would say something, but Ron cut into the moment. Argh, Ron.

"Let's get you home," Ron said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. After a muttered farewell, the boys left, leaving Luna and Hermione to ponder the events of the evening.

"Harry's always been stoic and noble," Luna said as she and Hermione started to walk again. "He's always done what he believes is the right thing."

"I know that."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Do you? Because you make the core of who he is waiver just by being who you are."

Hermione frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"I reckon he'd forget all about who he is for you," she admitted.

Hermione almost laughed. "And why on earth would he do that?"

Luna stopped walking to look at Hermione. The blondewitch met Hermione's gaze, the severity of what she was about to say taking precedent. "Because you're Harry and Hermione. You cannot honestly tell me that you've never felt anything there." At  
Hermione's silence, Luna continued. "I was there, you know? I saw it all. I watched you fight with yourself over your loyalty to Harry and your attraction to Ron. He told me what happened during the hunt for the Horcruxes; about the fact that he left  
and you stayed. You _stayed_."

"That didn't mean anything."

"Of course it did. It was all just a long list of reasons why we're all convinced that the two of you were made for each other."

That had Hermione frowning. "We?"

"Ron also told me why the two of you ended. You couldn't give up on Harry, and we all know that he wouldn't have given up on you either."

Hermione couldn't dispute that, as much as she wanted to.

"You and Ron would never have worked out in the long run. Not as long as Harry needed you. Sure, the two of you complement each other in a way that I probably won't complement him, but you've been doing that as friends for ages. I can imagine the type  
of life we all could have had if Harry still had his magic. But he doesn't. And our lives are so different now."

"That's all fine and dandy, Luna, but what you're saying is insane. Harry left. He disappeared and, sure, it might have been to protect all of us, but he was still able to do it."

"I know," Luna said sadly. "But it's easy to see that you're the one he feels the most guilty about. And did you see him blowing up over Ron mentioning Julia? Who I assume is Harry's person. No you didn't. Because it doesn't matter if Ron mentions her.  
But when you do it, it's a reminder to him that he's here with you instead of her; enjoying your company instead of hers."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the type of girl you come back for, Hermione."

"That's absurd."

Luna sighed. "Maybe. But think about this: Harry could have stayed hidden, he could have fought harder to resist, or he could have run again. But he didn't. Why?"

"He stayed for her," Hermione said, her voice emotionless.

"Or he stayed for you..."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Monday turned out to be an extremely busy day for Hermione Granger. Margaret had her scheduled for a full day in the Wizengamot, which really made Harry's arrival rather inconvenient.

"You two boys wait here," Hermione instructed Ron and Harry once they were in her office. "I'll try to finish this up as quickly as I can, and then we can get started."

Once Hermione left, Ron immediately put up the privacy wards and silencing enchantments. Harry just waited. Clearly the redhead had something he had to say.

"If we can't figure out what the Order did to you and how to reverse it; are you really willing to do what Hermione says you have to do?" Ron asked.

Harry had spent the better part of his weekend thinking hard about this very question. As yet, he hadn't come up with a suitable answer. He didn't really know if he was willing to do it. And even if he was, he was sure Hermione couldn't ensure that his  
magic would actually return.

"Because she's kind of asking a lot."

Harry just nodded. "I know that." He took a breath. "I mean, would you do it? Would you allow her to?"

Ron spent a few seconds thinking about that and, like Harry, he didn't know what he would do. "I reckon we should figure out some things then. Are you sure you're up for having a go at Kingsley?"

Harry shrugged. "There are worse things to go up against." He laughed for a moment, but then got very serious. "The question is, Ron, are you? My going in there isn't my going up against just Kingsley. I'll be going up against the Order. The Order."

Ron swallowed. "No, Harry, _we_ 'll be going up against the Order."

"I'm sorry for dragging you back into all of this," Harry said, feeling like it was something he had to address. "I'm really sorry I've made it so difficult being friends with me."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You definitely have," he said with a grin. "But I'm not complaining. Not really."

"Do you hate me?"

Ron regarded his once best friend rather sympathetically. "No, Harry, I do not. I just hate what you felt you had to do. We could have sorted this all out earlier. We could have found a way to get your magic back then. All of this would have been different."

Harry sighed. "You know, I've thought about what my life would be like if I had never lost my magic," he said, his voice growing softer. "I suspect I would still be with Ginny. I think we would be happily on our way to getting married and having maybe  
three or four children." Ron just smiled at that thought. "And I believe that you and Hermione would still be together. I don't know which couple would get married first, but it would happen some day, and then you would also have children. And the  
four of us, with Neville, and Luna, would live these simple, perfect, easy, maybe sometimes even boring lives."

Ron frowned slightly. "Is that a life you would want for yourself?"

"It just seems improbable, doesn't it?" Harry continued. "Ever since I found out I was a wizard, I've been running from death, fighting for a decent life where I could just be normal. It just seems pretty impossible for me to reach that kind of easiness,  
doesn't it?"

"But you have that as a Muggle?"

"I did," he admitted. "I wandered for a long time. I travelled to far away places, but I was always going to come right back to England. I had to be somewhere close. I had to be here, near all of you, even if I wasn't with you. I don't think I could have  
been anywhere else.

"I settled where I did because of a man I met in a bakery kind of bistro," Harry explained. "His name was Christopher Ahern. The way he talked about food made me fall in love with it. He told me that the shop was going to close down because the owner  
couldn't keep up with the payments. He said that the owner was getting old and he couldn't keep it going; that he was looking for someone to take over, while his daughter was at school.

"So I bought it. I saved it and, for the first time since I became a Muggle, I had done something meaningful. When Chris died, his daughter came back. She came back and the entire world changed."

"Julia?"

Harry nodded. "We've been together ever since."

That piece of news hurt Ron in a way he didn't quite understand. It was a pain he suspected was connected to Hermione. If she were to hear this story, he wasn't sure how she would react. It told him that Harry's relationship with Julia was real and deep  
and true. The type of relationship Harry and Hermione used to have; one they could probably still have.

"It just seems like an easier life," Harry went on. "No real stress. Just Julia and me living life, working in the shop, being happy. I don't know if I could give that up just to get my magic back."

Ron blinked. "Harry?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love being a wizard. But where have you heard of a wizard and a Muggle having a successful relationship? I would scare her half to death if I ever told her, and I don't think I could live my life lying to her."

"She would understand."

Harry took a deep breath. "Maybe she would. I don't know. What I do know is that everything we're dealing with is hypothetical. I've made countless sacrifices in my life already, Ron; and I don't think I want Julia to be one of them."

Ron didn't say anything for a while, his gaze never once leaving Harry's face. This was a very deep conversation. He suspected that Harry hadn't had many people to talk to about all of this. Ron was able to be his best friend again. Before they could  
move on, Ron had to ask the question: "What about Hermione?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean what about Hermione?"

"Clearly, there's some stuff the two of you need to talk about," Ron pointed out his observation. "Something's bothering the both of you and I really need you to sort it out before we move forward with whatever it is we're trying to do with the Order."

Harry just shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Hermione and I are fine."

"You and Hermione are definitely not fine."

Harry shifted in his seat, finding the conversation suddenly very uncomfortable. "We're fine. And you really can't talk. You and Hermione weren't particularly fun to be around during the hunt either."

"That was different."

"How was that different?"

Ron managed a smile. "You're right. It wasn't that different. We both had the hots for each other, kind of like right now, right?"

Harry shot a look at him.

He laughed. "Come on. You can't even deny it. There is something there. There always has been. The two of you always had something I envied. You were best friends from the very beginning, with a sort of understanding I could only dream of having. Tell  
me you didn't think about her while you were in your self-proclaimed exile."

Harry could feel himself angering. "You're talking rubbish," he said strongly. "And of course I thought of Hermione. I thought about all of you. All the time."

Ron sat forward. "Okay, answer me this, since Julia met Hermione, has she asked about her?"

The breath seemed to leave Harry. He was hit by a feeling of utter defeat. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What exactly did she say?"

He thought back. "She just asked if Hermione and I had ever… umm, you know… dated."

"Dated, huh? That's all?"

"Well, she asked if we'd ever got together… umm, on a… level that's more than, umm, just friends."

"And you said…?"

"No!" Harry rushed. "Of course not. We're just friends. Always have been. There's never been anything more."

"Keep talking, Harry; you might just convince yourself."

Harry felt that defeat all over again, as if he was fighting a battle he knew he had already lost. "I know what I feel, Ron. And it has nothing to do with Hermione."

Ron shook his head, but he chose not to say anything more on the subject. He had said his peace and he knew it was time to move on until he totally lost Harry once again. Ron let the silence drag on long enough for the frown on Harry's forehead to subside.  
"I have to show you something," Ron said. "I haven't told anyone about it, but I reckon you can keep a secret."

Harry looked at Ron, anticipating something big. He was not disappointed, as Ron pulled out a small box. "Ron?" Harry whispered. "I know we've known each other a long time, but I've always seen you as just a friend."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Harry. You're such an idiot."

He smiled sheepishly. "So, let's see it then."

Ron made quick work of opening the little box and revealing a yellow-gold band ring with a small diamond. "I spent months of wages on it," he said, feeling like he had to explain. "Luna knows I'm from modest beginnings, but I wanted to give her something  
special."

"She's going to love it," Harry found himself saying. "Wow. This is a big deal, Ron. When do you plan on doing it?"

Ron sat back and put the ring away. "I thought of doing it when her first article makes the front page, but I can't really plan on when that's going to happen. Could take years for all I know."

"I reckon you should ask her tonight," Harry said. "If there's anything I've figure out about life; it's that you never know what's going to happen. You love her, you ask her. You start your life; don't waste any time. Especially now with all this uncertainty  
with the Order."

Ron seemed to pale at Harry's suggestion. "Tonight?" he asked, his bottom lip quivering. "Isn't that a little soon? I mean, I kind of wanted it to be a little romantic, you know?"

Harry thought about that. "You know, I think I actually have an idea…"

The boys were still planning what they were going to do for the proposal when Hermione returned to her office. She looked particularly worn out, as if what ever she had been doing didn't go her way. Harry was hit with the urge - the need - to comfort  
her. He wanted to say something to cheer her up, but it all felt a little weird after the conversation he just had with Ron.

"Sorry I took so long," Hermione said, moving around her desk and flopping down into her chair. "There were… complications."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and it seemed to carry a lot of weight. It was as if he was apologising for a lot more than something he had no clue about.

Hermione managed to smile at him, acknowledging what he was trying to do. "Do you think we can continue this after lunch? I'm not really feeling up to discussing conspiracies and betrayals."

Harry wanted to stand up and go to her. It was as if his body wanted to propel him forward, as if his mind considered him to be the one she needed. It was strange.

"We can talk about other things," Ron offered, sensing the severity of Hermione's mood. "Like the fact that I intend to ask Luna to marry me."

Hermione just stared. "Wait. What?"

Ron was beaming and Harry just nodded in his own excitement. This was a secret for the three of them; something more exciting, something to hold onto.

"Tonight?" Hermione asked, her surprise getting the better of her. "You're going to ask her tonight?"

Ron looked at Harry for a moment, before he grinned at Hermione. "Well, why not?"

* * *

"Do you think he's going to be okay in there?" Hermione asked, as she, Harry and Julia stood across the street from the shop. At night, it was a bistro; a truly romantic, perfectly lit bistro. And this Monday night; it had only one table set for one red-headed  
wizard and a blonde, almostwhite-haired witch.

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her. "He's been planning it for ages. I'm sure it's all going to come tumbling out as soon as he opens his mouth."

"And that doesn't alarm you?" Hermione asked, laughing lightly.

Harry gave her a sideways look. "You can always go in and check if they're okay," he offered, smirking the only way Harry knew how.

"I'm perfectly fine out here, thank you very much," she said, folding her arms across her chest and biting on her bottom lip as she waited, which made Harry laugh.

Julia watched their interaction rather curiously. They were, she deduced, very comfortable with each other. Harry had told her they were never together, but she couldn't help feeling like she was an intruder in whatever they had going on.

Harry turned his attention to Julia. "Do you think the chocolate fondant will set in time?" he asked.

She found his concern adorable. "If he gets to the famous question before dessert; I doubt they're going to care."

Harry just smiled as he took hold of her hand and pulled her towards him. He placed his lips near her ear and whispered, "Would you care?"

Julia squeezed his hand, even as she started to beam. All she wanted to do was turn to him and kiss him full on the lips but she managed to stop herself. Something just didn't feel right about displaying affection towards Harry in the presence of Hermione.  
Julia wouldn't be able to explain why she felt like being with Harry was wrong, in the eyes of the great public; as if he was meant to be with someone else; with the woman standing just to their right.

Hermione felt supremely awkward as she stood there, feeling like the fifth wheel in a terrible dream. How on earth had she ended up where she was? Without Ron. Without Harry. Alone. Because, even though she had many people in her life; she couldn't deny  
the feeling she felt: loneliness.

Harry looked past Julia to Hermione, who seemed to have gotten smaller as the evening went on. He suspected it was partly his fault but he wasn't sure what he could do. She'd had a terrible day at work, and he and Ron had tried to cheer her up by getting  
her to help them with planning the proposal. What they had failed to think about was that, if they were going to have it in the bistro; they were going to need Julia's help as well. And suddenly it was no longer the Trio's secret.

Being Julia, she took control of setting up the bistro. Hermione had managed to chime in on things Luna-related but she was demoted as Julia was more familiar with the bistro. Ron was a bundle of nerves by the time Harry sent him home to get ready for  
the evening. It was at that point that Hermione wanted to leave, mainly because she didn't think she could handle being alone with Harry and Julia. But Julia had insisted she stay. The three of them had to see the entire thing through.

Which was why they were still standing on the sidewalk across the street from the bistro some ninety minutes after Ron and Luna had claimed the entire shop.

The first notable movement from within happened a few minutes later. The three of them could sense it. And suddenly, Ron's head popped out from the bistro's front door. His eyes were shining, maybe from tears. Joy or sadness, Harry couldn't be sure. But  
then his face burst into a wide grin and he yelled out at them. "She said yes!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

When Harry woke up the next morning, he wasn't alone. Ron was standing over him, beaming from ear to ear like he had just won the lottery or something.  
"It's about time you wake up," Ron said, unable to stop smiling. "We've got so much to do today."

Harry took his time getting ready while he listened to Ron go on and on about how the previous evening had actually transpired.

"And I just rolled with it, mate. I got down on my knee, asked the question and she said yes. It was amazing. You were right. There really is no point in waiting anymore."

Harry made them breakfast while Ron continued, even going into unnecessary detail about what occurred when they made it back to their apartment. "Okay, maybe that's a good place to stop," Harry eventually said. "I'm kind of eating here."

Ron laughed nervously. "Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away. I'm just so happy, and excited, and I literally cannot wait to marry her."

"Have you told your family yet?" Harry asked, as if it were still a normal question. Only, it wasn't.

Ron's features darkened. Thinking about his family wasn't what it used to be. His father was definitely involved in something with a direct link to the fact that his best friend was no longer a wizard. How could he just see past that? "I just did," Ron said seriously, unafraid to look Harry in the eye.

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to speak, even if he tried, so he just continued with his breakfast. Once they were both done, Ron Apparated side-along with Harry straight into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dean and Seamus were sitting in their own cubicles, obviously curious as to why Ron arrived with the biggest grin on his face, particularly when he was with Harry.

"I have news, gentlemen," Ron said, addressing the two Gryffindor Aurors he had worked with day in and day out for the past five or so years. "Although, I am not privy to tell you just yet. Luna would kill me."

Harry just shook his head. Clearly, Ron was enjoying all of this a little too much.

"Is Kingsley in?" Ron asked.

Seamus responded. "Waiting in his office."

As Ron escorted Harry to the Minister's office, each man became very serious. This was not a time for fun and games. Whatever Harry could figure out from the source himself would prove to be very useful in the long run. Of that much they were sure.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Mr Weasley," Kingsley said, inviting them into the office. Harry walked straight in and took a seat while Ron hovered at the door.

"I have a case to attend to," Ron explained. "I trust everything will be fine here. Unless, I can send Mr Thomas down."

Kingsley looked from Ron to Harry before he looked at Ron again. "No, I'm sure Mr Potter and I will be fine. Won't we?"

Harry said nothing. He sat very still, remained facing forward as Ron closed the office door.

"I've got him well trained, haven't I?" Kingsley said rather proudly.

Harry didn't react. He just sat back and waited.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here," Kingsley began. "I'll give you a clue: it has nothing to do with the Cloak of Invisibility."

Even though Harry was intrigued, he didn't show any interest.

It seemed to annoy Kingsley. "Do you even care? Or are you so far gone from the Wizarding World; it doesn't even matter to you?"

Harry considered his response but he was sure he would sound too emotional if he were to open his mouth. Of course he cared. He'd never stopped.

"Well, anyway, I want you to know that I was quite intrigued to hear that you stopped by the Weasleys for dinner," he said, his voice cold and calculated. It was very unlike the Kingsley he remembered, and he wondered where it had all gone so terribly wrong. "Getting reacquainted with those you left behind. I'm not sure that is such a good idea."

"And why is that?"

"Because we both know you're never going to be a wizard again, Harry. It's as simple as that. Whatever Hermione thinks she's found; there is nothing she can do to get your magic back."

Harry could tell this was his opportunity to query the whole thing but the truth of Kingsley's words had thrown him. What had he ever done to deserve to be treated this way? Somehow, he managed to gather himself. "About that. I've been meaning to ask; whatever it is you did to me; am I still supposed to be able to perform Legilimency?"

Kingsley stared him down, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. The younger man gave nothing away. "That is interesting. If it were actually true."

Harry leaned forward. "You'll have to forgive me because I'm not nearly as good as I once was," he said seriously, meeting Kingsley's gaze. If Kingsley caught him in his bluff, it was over. Harry had to guess right. His unnoticed perusal of Kingsley's desk had to count for something. "It's happening at the Zuri, isn't it?"

Kingsley swallowed. How could he possibly know that?

"Am I right?" Harry asked, leaning that bit further forward. "Because I see the sign with its name, right out front."

Kingsley checked the clock on the wall of his office.

"What? When next are you having one of your super secret night meetings, huh, Kingsley? I'm starting to feel a little left out, you know? You need something so desperately from me, and yet you haven't even invited me to the party."

Kingsley made an executive decision when he rose to his feet and stepped around his desk. "You should not be able to perform any magic," he said strongly.

Harry sat back, putting what little distance he could between them. He sensed a bit of panic in Kingsley's tone. "Something must have gone wrong then."

"No. We definitely performed the ritual correctly. Aberforth made sure of that. It cannot be."

Aberforth? Harry stopped breathing, more out of sheer shock than anything. Now, how on earth was he supposed to get anywhere need the truth if Aberforth Dumbledore was involved. Did he even want to?

"Show me your hands," Kingsley demanded.

Harry didn't move.

Kingsley grabbed hold of Harry's arms and turned his hands palms up. He studied them closely. "Harry, you better not be lying to me," he said, looking back at the young man. "This is very important. You cannot have magic, do you understand? You cannot. It's too dangerous."

Harry frowned. "For who?"

"For who else, Harry?" he asked, releasing Harry's arms and moving back around the desk. "Did you learn nothing from the prophecy?"

His frown only deepened. "The prophecy? The prophecy is over, Kingsley. I defeated Voldemort. One cannot live while the other survives. That's over."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I'm not talking about that prophecy, Harry."

That made Harry's breath catch. There was another prophecy?

"Did Dumbledore really not tell you about the second prophecy? Or, I suppose, the third? Fourth, fifth; does it really matter?" At Harry's silence, Kingsley smiled. "What do you think this is all about? Do you think I wanted to do this to you, to the Wizarding World? Of course not. But it had to be done."

That just confused Harry.

"What have you spent these years thinking about the Order?"

Harry didn't want to believe a word he was saying. There couldn't be another prophecy. No. He refused to believe it. How could there be another one?

"We're doing this to protect you."

Harry shook his head. "No, you're lying. You're lying!"

"Why would I lie?"

Harry stood up quite suddenly. He started to turn. He had to go; he had to get out as soon as he could.

"Think about it, Harry," Kingsley continued. "All Dumbledore did, he did to keep you safe. Why would any of that stop just because the war was over?"

Harry stopped listening as he stormed out of Kingsley's office, his head suddenly bombarded with everything he had spent years suppressing. All the Battles he had fought came flooding back. His mind paid close attention to the happenings of the Astronomy Tower. He had to put his hand out to the wall to stop himself from falling over.

"No," Harry whispered to himself. "He's lying. You aren't meant for anything more. You're fine. We're fine."

That was where Ron found him, hunched over and breathing heavily. Harry also looked sickly pale as Ron rushed to him.

Harry put out a hand. "No, stop. You hate me, remember?"

Ron fought between his head and heart. In the end, his head won and he remained upright. "Do you need to go to the washroom?" Ron asked, keeping his voice curt.

Harry managed to regain control enough to stand up straight and look at Ron. Whatever he conveyed in that one look was enough to let Ron know that sending Harry in to Kingsley was both a good and bad idea. Harry didn't say a word as he and Ron made their way to Hermione's office. As usual, the witch was poring over some file, deep in concentration. She put everything aside when she noticed the looks on their faces.

"What? What?" she asked quickly, sensing some urgency.

Ron shut the door and did the wards and enchantments as quickly as he could. "Tell us then," he said to Harry as the two boys claimed the chairs opposite Hermione's desk.

Harry composed himself. "There is another prophecy," he said softly. "There's always been another prophecy."

Ron and Hermione each sat back, contemplating this news. "Involving you?" Hermione asked.

"Involving the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, I suppose."

"So, Harry," Ron said, sounding defeated. "You'd think that the magical world would be done with you after the last one," he muttered, clearly irritated. "What else did Kingsley say?"

Harry looked at Hermione. The concern in her eyes was quite overwhelming. "Aberforth led whatever ritual they performed to take my magic away."

"Aberforth?" Ron sounded disgusted.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "That's probably because Dumbledore wasn't around to do it himself."

"So Dumbledore knew about all of this?" Ron asked, the irritation still in his tone of voice. "I mean, of course he did. How could he not have known? Why didn't he tell you?"

"Why didn't he tell Harry a lot of things?" Hermione muttered. It was strange for the boys when Hermione didn't defend Dumbledore. Despite his shortcomings by being very obtuse with the way he went about implementing his plan to defeat Voldemort, she remained adamant that he had cared about Harry. And not just because he needed the green-eyed wizard as the climax of the ultimate plan. That apparently wasn't over.

"What do you know about the prophecy?" Ron asked Harry.

"Nothing," he said sadly. "Absolutely nothing. Kingsley claims that he thought I knew about it all along, but he knows I didn't. I didn't find out about the first one until our fifth year and even then Dumbledore wasn't the one who told me first. I had to find out it existed when we were in the Hall of Prophecies."

The Trio descended into painful silence then. There was still so much they didn't know. What if Kingsley was telling truth? What if everything the Order was doing was to prevent something really terrible from happening? Should they even be getting involved?

It was Hermione who broke the silence. "We need to get our hands on that prophecy," she said, looking at Harry. "Do you suppose Professor Trelawney is the one who made this prophecy as well?"

Without answering, Harry continued with his thoughts. "When Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby, he gave me powers, and a future. Because of that, I was able to escape him as many times as I did. My powers were his. The Order just took them away. What if they were marked to perform evil once Voldemort was gone?

"Or maybe I never actually had any powers of my own, you know? Maybe I just survived off of my mother's blood protection for all those years. That makes sense, right? It was Voldemort's own powers that defeated him. All I ever had was love, right? The power he knew not. Love. Never any magic. This was the way it was always supposed to be. I was just supposed to live as a Muggle. A squib. That was all the great Harry Potter would be, if it had not been for that damn prophecy.

"And the thing is that prophecies aren't all necessarily fulfilled, right? Voldemort did this. He marked me as his equal and he killed countless innocent people trying to defeat me; trying to defeat himself. So it's better those powers are gone. They were never really mine to begin with. They were just there to fulfill that first prophecy. The whole reason for my stupid scar, and my entire life, was to defeat him, and I did it, so it's better if what he bestowed to me was taken away."

Sensing the path Harry was taking himself down, Ron spoke up. "Look, I think that Hermione is right. We need to get our hands on that prophecy before we make any assumptions, or even decisions." He looked at Hermione, the worry on her face surely mirroring his. "Do you reckon it's here, in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione answered, looking like she was coming out of a daze. "A lot of Prophecy Records were destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries," she explained. "And plus, if the prophecy Kingsley is talking about does concern Harry, he is the only one who can retrieve it from the Hall."

Ron leaned forward. "Well then, my dear friends, are we about to go on an adventure or what?"

* * *

Harry removed his glasses to wipe them on his shirt as he and Ron waited for Hermione to return from the washroom. It had been a long day, and a long night, but none of them could dispute the fact that it had been a very successful one. They had discovered a lot, and accomplished a lot.

And one of those accomplishments was the retrieval of the Prophecy Record sitting on the table in front of them. The Trio returned to 87 Bollinger Rd after their exploits at the Department of Mysteries and found themselves in the living room with the spun-glass object as the elephant in the room they were determined to put off talking about.

It had been rather easy to get Harry into the Hall. After Hermione had gone into planning mode, the boys had watched in utter amusement. She had managed to plan every minute of their attempt to steal the prophecy and it had pretty much gone off without a hitch. Unlike every other plan they had ever tried to implement before.

"It was almost too easy," Ron pointed out as he and Harry still waited, each of them not wanting to start with the Prophecy Record without Hermione. "I can't help but think that Kingsley knew you would try to find it, and so he let you."

Harry sighed. "Well, if that's the case, then there's definitely something he wants me to know."

Ron nodded. "I suppose Hermione's plan was rather fool-proof as well," he said. "Hitting the Hall during the shift change was a good idea as well. Although, we got a little lucky, I reckon. Nobody anticipated that Unspeakable in row one hundred and four. The way you and Hermione ducked between those two shelves was quite brilliant."

Harry eyed him.

"Whose idea was that, by the way? Because you guys were awfully close in there. Kind of pressed up against each other, weren't you?"

Before Harry could say anything to him, Hermione returned, still drying her hands on her jeans. Yes, Hermione was in jeans, and Harry couldn't help noticing that she looked good. Very good.

"Shall we?" Hermione said, sinking into an armchair and letting out a long, somewhat relieved breath.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

Hermione looked at Ron, silently asking a question. All the redhead did was shake his head. When they had arrived at the house, Ron had worried that Julia would find them sitting with the Prophecy Record but Harry told them that she was visiting her mother and grandmother in Manchester for a few days. Ron was relieved by that, but not nearly as much as Hermione was.

The witch did not want not to like Julia, but it just couldn't be helped. In her mind, it seemed that Harry had chosen Julia over them. It just didn't sit well with her. Not yet, at least.

Harry made them wait another fifteen minutes before he picked up the Prophecy Record. He held it in his hand, staring at it and feeling the all too familiar weight of it.

 **S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D**  
 **Harry Potter**

Professor Trelawney and Professor Dumbledore. Of course. Harry sighed.

As soon as they had located it, it became painfully clear to the three of them that this prophecy involved only Harry. That didn't bode well for him, in the great scheme of things. Not that anything before actually had.

Harry enclosed the orb in his hand and closed his eyes. Within seconds, the prophecy was presented to him, shocking him into deep silence. Ron and Hermione sat and watched in amazement as the light shone on Harry's face. From his facial expressions, he clearly was not enjoying what he was seeing. He even cried out at some point and it took everything Hermione had not to rush to him. Ron put his hand out to make sure she remained where she was.

When Harry opened his eyes, they looked considerably darker. Whatever he had seen or heard would stay with him for rest of his life. There was no doubt about that.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, sensing his utter distress. "What did it say?"

Before Harry could open his mouth to speak, the front door burst open and, suddenly, the Trio were no longer alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Before Harry could react, he was sent sprawling, his back hitting hard against the far wall. He hadn't even heard whoever camein. And yet they had. But how? Ron had put up the charms and the enchantments. Harry had watched him do it. How could they  
have entered the yard, yet alone the house? He was just glad that Julia wasn't home. Imagine having to explain the massive hole that now existed in the living room.

Amazingly, Harry still held the Prophecy Record in his hand. Even in his confused state, he knew that the item he held in his hand was what they had come for. His grip tightened on the orb as he scrambled to his feet, ready to face whoever had entered,  
even though he had no defenses.

Harry made out three assailants. He had lost his glasses, but he could see black figures in the blurriness.

"Harry, run," Hermione screamed from somewhere on his right. "Go, now!"

Harry took a step, but he was hit by something; some kind of Jinx that rendered him unable to move. Body Binder. He couldn't see and he couldn't move, but he could hear. Lights were flashing across the room, Ron and Hermione fighting off the assailants  
with the skill of veterans.

"Get the orb," someone yelled. That voice. Harry knew that voice.

"Unbind Harry," Ron shouted from somewhere on the left. More lights. Red and blue, mostly. "I've got this."

Hermione didn't argue as she returned her attention to Harry. He could almost feel her look at him. In a moment, Harry was free, but he still couldn't see. In his head, he said _Accio glasses_ , but of course nothing happened. But, before he knew  
it, his glasses were pressed into his hand, and Hermione was right next to him.

"Take the prophecy," she said, her breath hot against his cheek. "Go, run, now!"

Harry hesitated.

"We'll do better if weknow you're safe," she said hurriedly. Then, without really thinking, she kissed his cheek and sent him on his way. Harry ducked behind the couch and scurried across the room. He moved behind Ron who was defending himself with  
such ease. Harry was sure that if he were to turn on the attack, the assailants wouldn't stand a chance.

Harry moved to the door, which wasn't really a door anymore. The assailants had had the courtesy of using the door, but they had literally blown it off its hinges. The second Harry stepped through the door, he heard the scream. He turned his head quickly,  
just catching sight of the blinding green light.

"Hermione!" he yelled, unable to stop himself.

She looked at him, frozen. They locked eyes and he swore his entire world stopped. She maintained eye contact as she fell, his name hanging on her lips. The shock Harry felt was overpowered by confusion. The scream had been Hermione's. The green light  
isn't supposed to hurt, is it?

"He missed!" Ron shouted. "Harry, he missed! Go!" Then there was another flash of light: red and powerful. The silence that followed was unbearable. What had happened? What was happening?

Harry sensed the truth in Ron's tone so he started to go through the door. What he didn't expect to find was more people waiting for him. Most he didn't recognise. But one he definitely did.

Kingsley stood tall, even stepping forward to address Harry. "Thank you for coming outside, Harry."

Harry just stared, trying to study each and every face; attempting to commit them all to memory. He knew they wouldn't kill him. They needed him because they needed the Cloak. Sensing that he had the power here, he too stepped forward. "You could have  
just knocked," he said curtly. He threw the prophecy up into the air and caught it again. "Looking for this?"

"Hand it over, Harry," Kingsley instructed.

"You told me about it because you knew I would go for it," Harry said thoughtfully, continuing to throw the orb up in the air. "I really should have known, shouldn't I? I mean, Voldemortbasically didthe same thing."

As he spoke, Harry became acutely aware of a presence behind him. "It's us," Ron said softly. "We're okay. The others are down. Step back far enough and we'll Disapparate out of here."

Harry risked a slight nod of his head but he did not step back quite yet. Instead, he continued to address Kingsley. "If you wanted the prophecy so badly, you really could have just asked," he said, throwing the Prophecy Record up again. He almost didn't  
catch it. Which made him the only person rather amused. "My guess is that you don't actually know what's really on here," he continued. "Dumbledore didn't tell you either, did he? Just that it existed, right? Doesn't feel so great, does it?"

"Hand it over, Harry," Kingsley repeated.

"Trust me when I tell you that you don't really want to know what's actually on here," Harry said. "Because, if you do, you'll realise that it's going to be your fault."

Kingsley frowned. He couldn't help it.

"Oh, you don't really know how it works, do you? Let me tell it to you the way it was explained to me. Voldemort believed the prophecy would be fulfilled when he heard it, which was why he put it all into motion by finding and killing my parents. He believed  
I would be the one to defeat him, and so he gave me the powerto do so.

"The point is that he could have just let it be. The same way all of you could have just let things be with this." He lifted the orb to look at it. "Now it has to happen." Without realising, Harry's eyes darkened. "You took my magic away, but you won't  
be able to stop the prophecy now."

Kingsley struggled to keep his voice steady. "Give it to me, Harry."

Harry's grip on the orb changed. "If you want it so badly, you're going to have to go and get it." He pulled his arm back and threw the Prophecy Record as far as he could, right into the dark forest next to the house.

In the scramble that followed, Harry ran back to Ron and the Trio Disapparated into darkness.

* * *

 _"Yes!" Harry exclaimed._

 _"No!" Hermione said loudly._

 _Ron looked from brown eyes to green eyes. "Hermione! Harry!"_

 _Then Julia, laughing out loud, asked the question of Ron, "Did that really happen?"_

 _Ron shook his head rather vigorously. "Of course not. He's making the whole thing up, the prat. Don't believe a word he says, Julia. He's lying. It's all his Marauder blood."_

 _Harry and Hermione laughed at Ron turning the colour of his hair but Julia looked a bit confused. "Marauder blood?"_

 _It was Hermione who explained. "When Harry's father was in school, he and his friends were renown for their crazy antics and pranks. They referred to themselves as Marauders. To this day, they are total legends."_

 _"And this one has always had a Marauder side to him," Ron added, referring to Harry._

 _Harry couldn't help but feel happy. He had the three most important people in life in one room, and they all seemed to be getting along somehow. Well, he supposed that it probably had a little to do with the several bottles of wine they had already consumed._

It seemed too easy, so natural, that Harry quickly realised that he was dreaming. Of course he was dreaming. In no world would Hermione and Julia be talking so animatedly. Realising that he was in fact asleep, Harry forced himself to wake up. He was in  
a bed he didn't recognise, in a bedroom he didn't know, and yet he had never felt safer.

He quickly climbed out of bed to find himself still in the clothes he had been in when they had come for retrievingthe prophecy. It all just seemed a little too familiar. Whichever way they looked at it right now, they were once again on the run  
from someone, and Harry hated it.

Harry left the room he was in and immediately knew where he was. It was all a little too familiar, really. He made his way downstairs to find Ron in the kitchen of Shell Cottage. The last time he was at Shell Cottage, Voldemort was still alive and Hermione  
ended up looking like Bellatrix Lestrange by the time they left. How much had happened since then?

"Mornin'," Ron said between bites of his toast. "How did you sleep?"

Harry moved to sit down at the kitchen table. "I don't even know how I ended up asleep," he admitted. "What happened?"

"You're a lot weaker now that you're a Muggle," Ron said, no hint of amusement in his tone. "The Disapparation took its toll on you. You'd passed out by the time we got here."

Harry just nodded. "How are you? How's Hermione?"

Ron shrugged. "I've faced worse, I suppose. What I didn't expect was figuring out that one of the assailants in the room was Percy. Can you believe it? My own brother. And he was the one who shot the Killing Curse. I mean, can you believe that?" After  
his little outburst, he calmed down considerably. "And Hermione is fine. She was hit by something but Fleur patched her right up."

That did very little to calm him. "Where is she?"

Ron gestured with his head, indicating the window. "Taking a walk with Fleur."

"And Bill?"

"Visiting the Burrow."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Don't worry," Ron tried to assure him. "He won't tell them we're here. He just wants to know what's going on. As do I, Harry. You have to tell us about the prophecy."

Harry nodded absently. "I will. I promise. I just, umm…"

"You need to see Hermione, don't you?" Silence. "Go on then. I'll be here."

Harry didn't say anything as he rose to his feet. He moved to the back door and looked out at the white sand. He couldn't deny the certain sadness that currently claimed him. He felt as if the life he knew was gone once more. Just like that. In one evening,  
the nightmares of years past were back. Harry hesitated at the door. "Thank you, Ron," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Everything." He didn't wait for a response as he hurried out, determined to find Hermione. He needed to see her. That's all. He had to see with his own eyes that she was okay. Because, for a moment, he had been convinced she wasn't. He swore he had watched  
her die. But he hadn't. Right?

Harry didn't have to walk far before he spotted them. There were two figures walking along the beach some two hundred metres ahead of them. One was heavily pregnant, and the other had bushy, untamed hair. The relief that washed over him almost dropped  
him to his knees. Was there honestly a sight more perfect?

Harry didn't pick up his pace to catch up with them. He felt too tired to run. Instead, he walked at a leisurely pace, breathing in the cool air and trying to clear his head. Too much had happened in the last twenty four hours. All Harry could be grateful  
for was that they were all alive. He had to look back up at Hermione once more, just to make sure. She was right there. His eyes had deceived him the night before. Hermione was fine.

Harry didn't feel relief. He was filled with intense fear. And guilt. It was so much more than what he had felt when Hermione was hit by Dolohov's curse during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. This was different. At least then they had a good  
idea as to who their enemy was. Now they didn't. The people they were supposedly going against now were the same people they had fought with, against the bigger enemy. How was it that their allies would become their foes?

"'Arry!"

He looked up to see the two figures looking at him. He hadn't even realised that the two of them had stopped walking, because they weren't as far in front of him as they once were.

Fleur was the only one smiling. She seemed to sense it, because she starting walking towards him. Only, she didn't stop. She just put a hand on his arm and whispered. "It's so good to see you, 'Arry," and then she was gone.

Harry looked at Hermione rather sheepishly, not sure what he could say.

Hermione used her hands to gesture to him that she wanted him to go to her. So he did. He shuffled through the sand and walked right into her waitingarms. It wasn't the usual bone-crushing hug that Harry had come to expect from her. This one was  
soothing, reassuring, as if she knew it was exactly what he needed. Because he did. Especially from her.

Harry felt his body relax, as if just her touch relieved all the tension stored within him.

Before Harry had a chance to speak, Hermione did. "I'm fine." Without realising, they were the words that Harry desperately needed to hear. She was fine. "And so are you."

Harry released her just so he could look at her. "You gave me quite the scare, Miss Granger," he said, too somber to give his trademark smirk.

"Sorry about that. I'm a little out of practice with the whole dueling thing."

"Well, that's what you get for choosing to sit behind a desk," he said, this time with a slight smirk.

Hermione was still clinging to his waist and she couldn't bring herself to let go. He didn't seem to want to step away so she wasn't going to initiate it. "I have to make a living somehow."

As if realising how close they were actually standing, Harry cleared his throat, released her and stepped back. "Umm, are you done walking, or would you be happy to continue with me?" he asked politely.

She turned her body, silently telling him that they could continue. The two of them walked in silence for a little while, enjoying the other's presence and the sound of the crashing waves. It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Julia is fine," she said.  
"In case you were wondering. I had Margaret check in with her."

Harry couldn't stop his frown. Why hadn't he thought of Julia?

Hermione looked worried. "Umm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, umm… Did I do something wrong? Shouldn't I have checked?"

"No," Harry said quickly, shaking his head. Why hadn't he thought of Julia? "That's okay. Thank you for doing that."

She couldn't figure out what was bothering him but she decided not to ask. She had spent enough time thinking and talking about Julia for one day. They all had bigger things to be worrying about anyway. Not for the first time in their lives, they were  
being hunted, by the Ministry.

"Did Margaret say anything else?" Harry found himself asking.

"She said that there were people in my office this morning," Hermione explained, happy to move the conversation along. "They were probably looking for things connecting me to you."

Harry looked at her. "What would they find?"

"If they could figure it out; a Phoenix feather."

Harry risked a smile. "You couldn't even figure it out."

"Thank you for reminding me," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "Shows how well I know you, doesn't it?"

"I reckon you know me pretty well."

She nodded her head absently. "Which is why I know that whatever you saw or heard in that prophecy scares you. Even if you won't admit it."

Harry didn't comment on that.

"I sense your fear when it doesn't have anything to do with you," she continued. "Whatever has you spooked has to do with the rest of us, doesn't it?"

"Dumbledore didn't make them take my magic away because he wanted to punish me, Hermione. He made them take it away to save me. I have more of a purpose. Something terrible is going to happen. And, once again, I'm the only one with the _power_ to  
see it through."

Hermione didn't voice her confusion. She knew that he knew she didn't understand, and he would probably explain it all when they were with Ron. So she just let them walk. She was enjoying just being able to walk with him; kind of like the calm before  
the storm.

At some point, the two of them made a silent but mutual decision to turn around and head back towards the Cottage. Bill was probably back and Ron was probably worried. Or asleep.

They talked and they laughed and, not for the first time, Harry temporarily forgot about Julia.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ron watched his two best friends out of the window of Shell Cottage's kitchen. Seeing them talk and actually seem to enjoy each other's company made him feel a lot calmer about what they were about to face. If only for a little while.

Bill's return brought with it further complications and Fleur had just managed to calm him down before Harry and Hermione stumbled back into the cottage. Their smiles quickly faded, replaced by grave looks of responsibility. It was time to talk.

Bill started, relaying what he had learned from his visit to the Burrow. He gathered them all in the living room. Ron had made sure Luna knew they were safe, and she had insisted on joining them. Shell Cottage held quite a bit of meaning to her as well  
and none of the others seemed to object. Hermione didn't have to worry her parents with any of this.

"Mum was livid," Bill said. "Enraged, really. Dad should be more afraid of her, I reckon. She absolutely let rip at him. George even had to pull her away. The Order, attacking her dear Harry. And, of course, Ron and Hermione. But the fact that there had  
been any attack at all, she was angry. And she's mightily scary when she's angry."

Ron raised a hand to acknowledge the truth of that.

Bill continued, only slightly amused. "Dad told her that the attack hadn't been successful. Apparently the Prophecy Record had shattered when Harry threw it."

All eyes turned to look at Harry, who merely shrugged.

"Mum also tore into Percy. I doubt she's letting him anywhere near the Order again. Dad also let him know what he thought. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, least of all killed. That Killing Curse could have landed anywhere."

"Did you get a chance to talk to Dad?" Ron asked.

Bill swallowed, looking a bit worried. "I did, yeah. He reckons I know where you three are." He grinned for a moment, unable to resist it. "He told me that it would be safer for everyone if you three just returned to the Ministry and everything could  
just be sorted out. He said they would explain everything, if you would tell them exactly what was in the prophecy." He was looking at Harry. "You do know what the prophecy was, right? You found out, before you threw it into oblivion, right?"

Harry just nodded.

"Why don't you tell us, Harry?" Luna prompted.

Harry would have liked to have a bit more time, but that wasn't to be. Slowly, he rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of everyone, just as Bill claimed the spot on the couch he had vacated. For a moment, Harry felt vulnerable. And helpless. What  
he knew wasn't good. Saying it all out loud would be too hard, he was sure. How was he supposed to face a potential reality that meant the end of his kind? His former kind.

Harry didn't know where to begin. It really didn't matter what he ended up telling them. The prophecy was going to be fulfilled one way or the other. As he looked at them, he had the urge to yell out 'you're all going to die' but he kept a hold of himself.  
He would once again do all he could to make sure that didn't happen.

Harry cleared his throat. "The prophecy told of a man, the same boy to vanquish the Dark Lord. It said that, should he survive, some time after his twenty third year, another evil would rise, possibly within him. This necessary evil would form with the  
sole purpose of eradicating all those with magical abilities." Harry paused to let that sink in.

Hermione recovered quickly enough to ask for clarification. "Wait. What? What does that mean?"

Harry waited a beat before he responded. "What I understand is that Voldemort's reign of terror against Muggles did not sit well with those who know of the existence of magic. They're afraid of the power magicals possess, particularly the Dark side. Some  
decision appears to have been made, and they want to bring down all who are affiliated with magic."

Bill shook his head. "No. They wouldn't do that. The Department of Muggle Liaisons has good relationships with the Muggles privy to our existence. They wouldn't."

"Wouldn't they?" Fleur asked her husband, her voice airy and thoughtful.

"Wait," Hermione sounded. "So we're in danger, we've been here before. What I don't understand is what Harry and his magic has to do with anything." She looked at Harry, anticipating a response. She had to wait quite a long time.

Harry knew he was responsible for what was happening. However intentionally, or unintentionally, the Muggle world were afraid. And rightly so. Voldemort had torn many lives apart, leaving masses of bodies from both worlds in his wake.

"It's me they're afraid of," Harry said solemnly. "In the great tale of the Second Wizarding War, the name Harry Potter surely comes up many a time. If I ever turned against the Muggles, would they stand a chance?"

Hermione mentioned her thoughts. "Which is why Dumbledore had them perform the ritual to remove your magic. If the Muggles saw that you were no longer a threat, good or bad, then they wouldn't deem it necessary to kill us all?"

He hesitated. "I think so."

Hermione sensed that there was still something he wasn't telling them. "Harry?"

He swallowed. His hands were even shaking; he desperately didn't want to say what he had to out loud. It didn't make sense. It couldn't have been true. He never could have... could he?

"How?" Hermione asked suddenly. "How would they get rid of us, if they had? Or if they are to?"

Harry looked down at the floor, suddenly unable to look any of them in the eye. He was almost ashamed of what he knew, and he desperately wished Hermione hadn't been the one to ask the burning question.

"Harry?" Luna soothed. "It's okay. Just tell us."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He did not look up when he spoke. It came out as a mumble, even though it wasn't what he intended. "The Order didn't take my magic because they were afraid of the possibility of me turning against the Muggles,"  
he said. "They were afraid I'd turn against _them_. Against all of you."

"Excuse me?" It was Ron.

Harry just managed to lift his head, but he still didn't meet any eyes. "The Muggles. They would have used me, to get rid of all of you."

"How?" Hermione asked, not allowing herself to think about the implications of his revelations.

Harry was sure he looked pained. "I was a powerful wizard," he said, merely stating a fact. "And I was supposed to die," he said softly. "That was always Dumbledore's plan, and it worked out the way it was supposed to. I died in the Forbidden Forest,  
and that should have been it. But I survived, which was where I'm sure Dumbledore's contingency plan came into effect."

Hermione sounded somber. "You were the weapon they had to disable," she said, her eyes darkening. "They couldn't risk you turning against them."

"Because of what Dumbledore believed was within me," he said, his sentence directed at Ron and Hermione.

Of course, both of them knew he was referring to the Horcrux that had lived within him for some sixteen years of his life. A piece of Voldemort's soul. Would it really have been able to possess him, or would he have acted on his own?

Harry decided to continue, somehow feeling that maybe the Order were justified in their actions. "After the war, even before I knew that I was powerless, I already knew I would be in a dark place. I suppose I was susceptible to a lot, and I think I was  
convinced that it would have been better if magic didn't even exist."

The room was stunned to silence.

"For a while, I was the Master of Death," he said, even though it sounded stupid on his lips. "I've had all three Hallows in my possession at some time or the other."

Ron blinked unbelievingly. "You would have turned against _us_?"

Harry's eyes widened. "No. Never!" Then, somberly, he said, "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not the me you knew, but a different one."

Nobody said anything for a good while as they each tried to process what Harry was telling them.

Hermione tried to make sense of it. "Okay, so they took your magic away because they were afraid you would, essentially, turn Dark? The Muggles, or whoever is out to get rid of us, can't use someone who doesn't have magic, right?"

Harry merely nodded.

"So what is the problem now?" Ron asked. "Why all the fuss? They don't have you. It's over, isn't it?"

Bill shook his head. "They found another way," he said sadly. "Without Harry, they had to. We pose too much of a threat for them to just forget that Voldemort and his followers were responsible for many Muggle deaths. Whether or not Harry has his magic  
is irrelevant now. The prophecy will still happen in some capacity, even without Harry."

Harry pressed his lips together, getting to the part of prophecy that really made a person stand up and take notice. He cleared his throat. "The prophecy said that I would, again, have the power to control what was surely to come, whether I caused it  
or not. Which really just confuses me."

Hermione closed her eyes for a long moment. "Which really means that you might not have even been prophesied to turn Dark," she said. "Harry, think of the exact words. Did they mean that you would have, once again, been the Wizarding World's saviour?  
As in, you're the one who controls the outcomes either way? That, when they used you, whoever _they_ really is, that it would be for Dark purposes? Not Light?"

Harry didn't want to nod. What he had heard in the prophecy made him feel Dark, unworthy. He hated that they were all thoughts that he had actually thought a few times in his life. The world would be better off without people who could cast a spell to  
kill in one utterance. Sometimes, he still believed it. Magic was dangerous. They were all dangerous. And Harry, Muggle and all, was totally defenseless.

He didn't know if his thoughts existed because he'd had Voldemort in his head, or because he had been dealt a terrible hand by the Wizarding World. That had been Dumbledore's plan, hadn't it? Use him and use him for the ultimate plan to defeat the Dark  
Lord, and then what? Strip him of his powers? _Too bad you didn't die, Harry, but we'll kill you slowly anyway._

Ron cleared his throat, sensing that Hermione's question had in fact been of the affirmative kind. Harry's lack of response was enough. Somehow, their raven-haired friend was at the centre of it all. He had the power to instigate, or end whatever would  
happen. He had the power to decide how it went, and right now there were three forces trying to take steps forward: the Order and their misplaced ideas of trying to prevent the prophecy, Harry and Co. and their need to find the answers before planning  
to stop whatever onslaught was surely coming their way, and then the Muggles or whoever they were working with to end all that was magic.

Ron felt a shiver shoot up his spine. This was all new to them all. It wasn't the same as it was before. Right now, nobody even knew who the true enemy was. The Muggles or the Order. Either way, Ron was certain that his little band of younger generation  
didn't want _anybody_ to die. Least of all Harry Potter.

"Okay, so now what happens?" Ron eventually asked.

Bill sat up straight. "Dad mentioned a meeting," he said; "between what's left of the Order and, well, us. I think we should meet with them and sort this whole thing out. Maybe if they can explain, we can make our own decisions."

"If they'd just been 'onest with us in the first place," Fleur added, sounding irritated.

"Can we trust them?" Ron asked his older brother. "Seriously, Bill, they used the Cruciatus on Harry, and Percy even cast a Killing Curse. How are we supposed to walk into a meeting knowing all of that? They'd slaughter us."

Bill spent a moment thinking about it before he raised and then dropped his shoulders.

"What about witnesses?" Hermione suggested.

All eyes turned towards her.

"Witnesses?" Luna queried.

Hermione looked at Harry. "The Order wouldn't try to hurt you if people were watching," she explained. "If we can round up people that we trust, I think that it's a good idea to meet with them. Having people around should keep the peace, as long as we  
make it certain we're not gathering for a war."

"That's brilliant," Ron said, nodding his head as he thought about how it would all come together.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was still looking at him. "You thinking meeting with them is a good idea?"

"I can think of worse ones."

Harry risked a smile before he turned his attention to Bill. "Okay. We'll meet. We have to pick a suitable time and place. Somewhere neutral, in the open, sort of public. And we need to get word out to people once the confirmation of the meeting is made."

Bill nodded. Then with a smirk, he said, "I know this is a terrible time to say this but boy is it good to have you back, Harry."

* * *

By evening, Shell Cottage was buzzing with the arrival of new visitors. When Bill sent out the message to the Order's younger generation, they came. No questions asked. Just yet, at least. Bill had spent a few minutes explaining what was required of them:  
merely their presence. He mentioned that they were indeed going to meet with Kingsley and several members of the Order, or the Ministry. They weren't sure. Nobody asked probing questions, though Ginny did ask how prepared they had to be.

Bill assured them that all they were going to do was talk.

The Golden Trio were rather relieved by the lack of questions. In truth, Harry was feeling particularly overwhelmed by it all. Again, too many people were going to put their lives on the line. Not for him this time. He hoped. For themselves.

On top of Bill, Fleur and Luna, the trio were joined by Neville and Ginny, George and Angelina, Cho Chang and Katie Bell, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Dean and Seamus - who Ron insisted they could trust - and the Patil sisters.

As the evening went on, it wasn't only Hermione who noticed that Harry seemed to retreat into himself, choosing to sit alone in the corner of the living room, looking out the window at the lapping high tide waves. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look over  
it, which prompted Hermione to move towards their green-eyed friend.

"Hey you," Hermione said, nudging his knee from her standing position. "Why are you sitting here all alone, and all sullen?" She tried to make a slight joke of it but there seemed to be something weighing heavily on him; something he clearly didn't want  
to talk about. When he didn't say anything, Hermione stepped closer, dropping the volume of her voice. "What can I do to make all of this better?" she asked, her need to comfort him threatening to erupt from within.

Harry looked at her, his eyes shining. "You're doing it," he said softly, even managing a slight smile. "I'm sorry I'm not being very social. I guess I'm a little overwhelmed. I didn't expect this many people to come out. I don't want to put them in danger."

It took great effort for Hermione not to reach out and touch him. She wanted to run a hand through his hair in an attempt to assure him that they weren't really going to war. They were going to talk; to learn what was really going on. All the people in  
the house were merely witnesses, to insure that whatever Kingsley and Mr Weasley were up to wasn't going to hurt him.

But they were in a room with a lot of people. And Harry had kissed more than one of those people, which was a thought that was nagging Hermione. It was stupid, really, for her to be thinking about that at a time like this, but she couldn't help it.

It was Harry who initiated the contact. He reached for her hand and squeezed. When he let go, he looked her in the eye. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Harry thought of the little conversation he had had earlier that morning with Ron. It felt like a long time ago, after the events of the day. "Everything."

Before Hermione could question him further, Bill called for everyone's attention.

"It's time to go."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The sun was still setting when Harry and Co. arrived just outside Godric's Hollow. He'd Apparated side-along with Hermione, and they touched down on the hard ground; Harry feeling a bit dizzy so he put a hand on the young witch's arm to steady himself.

They were early, as planned. Harry couldn't see the little town but Hermione assured him that it was there, despite the painful ruins his eyes settled on. His parents were there; his childhood home was in there, and he couldn't even see any of it.

Bill and Fleur immediately made quick work of sending people to check their periphery, to make sure that they were indeed alone. Bill had them search for illicit traps and Fleur helped arrange people in one half of the opening in which they found themselves.  
It was a type of meadow, with the grass still a strong green even as summer was ending. On any other night, it might have even been romantic.

"It's beautiful here," Ginny said, her eyes darting around as she stood between her brothers, George and Bill. She sneaked a look at Neville who merely nodded his head.

Even though Neville was still apprenticing as an Assistant Professor with Professor Sprout at Hogwarts, he could easily slip into warrior mode when needed. It was actually what Ginny seemed to love most about him. The way he protected her made her weak  
at the knees, even though she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

The closer they came to the scheduled meeting time, the more anxious Harry felt. Back when he still had his magic, he would have stood right in front, wielding his wand. But now he stood just behind the first line of defense. Ron and Bill stood, poised  
and alert. Hermione was to Harry's right and Luna was on his left.

Luna was, despite her ever-present bewildered look, a very fine duelist. Harry felt protected but he couldn't stop himself from feeling useless. What could he possibly offer if this whole thing turned out to be one massive elaborate trap?

At a little after nine o'clock, hooded figures began to pop into view before them. Harry had a flashback to the moment the Death Eaters had descended on the graveyard in his fourth year. He felt angry, annoyed and scared all at the same time. Why was  
this happening again? Voldemort was dead. All of this fear and conspiracy and betrayal should have died with him.

Hermione took a subconscious step towards Harry, involuntarily gripping her wand tighter. Harry's eyes shifted to Hermione at his side and, without giving it much thought, he took hold of her free hand. He thought he was doing it for her but he was really  
doing it for himself. He calmed her, and she kept him grounded. _This_ was something none of them had ever faced before.

"Potter?" a voice called out from the hooded group of people.

For a moment, Harry didn't move. Nobody did. That voice. He knew it.

"Potter, step forward," the voice said again.

Hermione squeezed his hand once in support before Harry finally stepped forward, moving to stand between Ron and Bill. His eyes settled on the front of the hooded group. There was a moment as he stared at the black of their robes. The Order.

"What did you do?" the voice asked, sounding slightly disappointed. "What have you done? That prophecy was the answer to everything."

Harry doubted that, though he didn't say. He wasn't going to speak until the owner of the voice stepped forward and revealed themselves. Harry wanted to look them in the eye for this confrontation.

"Show yourself," Bill shouted, almost spitting.

Harry watched in mild horror as Andromeda Tonks stepped forward and dropped her hood. The first thing he thought about was Teddy. Teddy! Where was Teddy? He glared at her in the night sky, almost daring her to use the first-grader against him. Harry was  
sure he wasn't the only one who was shocked by her presence.

"Harry," Andromeda said, her voice sounding that grandmotherly that he remembered. "How nice to see you again. I see you've brought some guests."

Harry, for the most part, felt a bit relieved that she was there. Surely she would explain what was going on, and make it all make sense to him. Because, as it stood, Harry didn't understand. "You didn't expect me to come alone, did you? I brought witnesses."

"I was glad to hear you agreed to meet with us," Andromeda began, getting through the formalities quickly. "Your actions have made what we hope to achieve very difficult. I suppose, given what you know, you expect an explanation."

"If you want to know what's really in the prophecy, yes," Harry replied coldly. His face was expressionless. Ron shifted his standing position at the sound of hostility in Harry's tone. "Why are you doing this?"

Another hooded figure stepped forward. "We planned it for a long time," Aberforth Dumbledore said, removing his own hood.

Harry looked at the man and all he saw was his Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore. He couldn't help it. "How long?"

"Since Albus told us of this prophecy that you have destroyed. Seems to be a habit of yours, isn't it, Potter?"

Harry risked a look Neville's way but the Herbology apprentice didn't so much as bat an eyelid. "Not always on purpose," Harry said, almost shrugging. "It was quite a risk you took though, attacking us in a Muggle neighbourhood. You must really have wanted  
that prophecy."

Andromeda cast her eyes downward. "That was... unfortunate, to say the least. It was never to turn so violent."

Ron stepped forward and spat out, "You used the bloody Killing Curse on us!"

Harry put a hand on his arm to calm him, kind of like what Hermione did, and it seemed to do the trick. He stepped back again, muttering obscene things under his breath.

"Like I said... unfortunate."

Harry's eyes narrowed. She was no longer sorry. In war, certain _things_ just had to be done. It disgusted him. How had they come to this point? 'Why, Dumbledore? Why did you make this our legacy,' he thought, cynically.

"Tell us the prophecy, Harry. Word for word. We have to make plans to stop what is to come," Aberforth said, his voice booming across the meadow.

"I thought you already made plans," Harry said. "Isn't the whole reason I don't have magic part of your illustrious plan?"

"Tell us the prophecy!"

Harry sneaked a look at Ron. They'd discussed it. Harry _would_ tell them the prophecy. They'd decided. And yet, Harry was determined not to tell them. Not now. He expected to come and have a conversation. They were supposed to help him understand,  
not make it more of his fault that the whole thing was falling apart.

"You must have an idea of what you intend to do," Harry said, purposefully avoiding the prophecy. "You have to have some idea. I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't have left you without telling you what to do, right? That's all you're really doing now, aren't  
you? Just going on a dead man's word!"

Aberforth stepped forward, his dark robes flailing under his unspent magic. "You will not speak of my brother that way!"

"He had no idea what he was doing!" It was Hermione, sounding angrier than Harry had ever heard her. He definitely wasn't the only one dissatisfied with this _conversation_. "He sent a boy looking for pieces of Voldemort's soul without even telling  
him how to destroy them! A boy! What sane man would do that?"

Aberforth raised his wand in anger and Harry just held his breath. Andromeda put a hand out to stop him. In that moment, he knew that this was never going to end peacefully. A sudden hush fell over the already quiet gathering as the truth of it sunk in.

"Step back, Harry," Bill whispered, loud enough for only the green-eyed Muggle to hear.

Harry didn't move. "There is nothing you can do to stop it!" he yelled out. " _You_ can't do anything. And now I'm the only one who can! Kind of seems like a bad idea that I'm powerless now, doesn't it?"

For a while, nobody said anything. What could they say? Harry had spoken the truth, whether they wanted to believe it or not.

"So what will you do? What have you decided? What has Dumbledore told you to do?" Harry continued to question. "Are you going to get rid of all the Muggles like they intend to get rid of you? Only all you need is to flick your wand, right? Voldemort has  
already turned us all into murderers."

There was another lengthy silence, Harry's words hanging in the air like acidic mist.

"You are misguided," Andromeda shouted. "Think, Harry. Think about how important this is. Open your eyes. We have to protect ourselves from the likes of those who intend to destroy us."

Harry's insides churned. Did that include him? From that, he gathered that taking his powers was what they settled for and he should have been grateful. Harry was not supposed to have survived the Final Battle, and they would have made sure of it. Someone  
must have pleaded for his life.

"Join us," Andromeda said. "Don't make the same mistake my daughter and that husband of hers did."

That made Harry's breath catch. What? His eyes searched for Andromeda's in the darkness, hoping to find something he could hold onto. Instead, he found something cold. "What did you do to them?" Harry asked, his voice coming out as a screech.

"They didn't believe in our plan," she said flatly. "Lupin was convinced you would stay on our side. He wanted you to keep your magic. He fought to stop the ritual. But, in the end, he paid the ultimate price for turning against the Order."

Harry couldn't even believe what he was hearing. This had to be some warped dream or something. Wake up! Wake up, Harry. But Harry knew it wasn't a dream. Even his dreams couldn't have predicted something like _this_. "You killed them," he said  
hatefully. "Your own daughter. Teddy's parents. You just... how could you?"

"They're to blame here," Andromeda roared. "Not I."

"No!" Harry was angry. He was livid. "What are you hoping to accomplish? We're supposed to be the good ones! Only the likes of Voldemort kill those who do not follow them. If this is the way the good witches and wizards act, then maybe the Muggles should  
just get rid of the lot of you!"

"Aha!" Andromeda said, looking quite chuffed with herself. "I told you he would say it. I told you these were his thoughts. We made the right decision. Albus was right. He would turn against us."

"Now!" Harry said hotly. "I would turn against you _now_. You don't know what could have happened if you had just let things be. You _made_ me turn against you and now who knows what's going to happen?"

Andromeda stared hard at Harry, refusing to acknowledge any of the words he said.

"You put it all into motion," Harry said, stepping forward and further out of the defensive line. "I'm surprised, really. I thought Dumbledore would be smarter than Voldemort in that regard. I guess he really wanted this to happen." He was walking slowly  
towards the woman before him. "He wanted you all to have a reason to hate me, fear me, isolate me. You don't think that would send me to the Dark side faster than allowing me to exist peacefully with my family. You did this! Whatever the prophecy  
spoke of is going to happen and there's nothing you can do to stop it. I hope it was worth it. Because I don't think Teddy will think it was."

Before Harry could even react, a bolt of blue light from Andromeda's wand was sent towards him, making him fly backwards until he landed at Ron's feet. He was too shocked to move for a moment, even as his defensive line changed their stance.

"Harry," Bill said. "Get behind us."

Harry just managed to stand, the air in his lungs just returning.

And then, without much warning, it began. The second beam of light came from across the meadow. It was directed straight at Harry. Before the spell could reach him though, Ron shoved him out of the way and held up a strong shield. Harry ended up on the  
ground by Bill's feet. In quick motion, Bill stepped around him, protecting him as lights started to fly across the sky.

"Stay down, Harry," Luna said, almost stepping around as well. "Just stay down."

Harry did not stand up again. He crawled out of the way and hid behind the large rock Bill had pointed out to him. He leaned on his knees and peaked over the granite to see what was happening. The Order was on the attack and Ron kept them on the defensive.  
No no no. This was supposed to be a conversation. The congregated people were supposed to be here as witnesses. There wasn't supposed to be a fight!

From his position, Harry could see Hermione. She looked calm, even as the word _Protego_ kept rumbling out of her throat. He kept his eyes on her, right until Fleur appeared right in front of him.

"We 'ave to go," the French witch said, her tone severe. She wasn't giving him any room to get out of her command.

Harry still found some. "I can't just leave them. You go."

"'Arry," Fleur said strongly. "There iz nothing for you to do 'ere. Nothing."

Wasn't that the truth?

She put out her hand and, in Harry's hesitation, she was hit in the back by some hex. It knocked her into his arms and his panic rose right up into his throat.

"Fleur," he called, trying to shake her. "Fleur, no, wake up! Wake up!"

In a moment, Bill was at Harry's side, staring at his wife with a look of shock on his face. "What happened? What happened?"

"I don't know," Harry said, and he really didn't know. They were supposed to be hidden by the rock. If the opposition really _was_ in front of them, Fleur wouldn't have been spotted. Then it hit him. "Friendly fire. One of our own," he said softly.  
"Definitely aiming for me."

Bill's features turned hard and his eyes darkened. "You make sure she wakes up," he instructed Harry. "Pull her further behind the rock." He stood up and scanned his ranks, even as they continued the defensive. He searched every one of their faces, looking  
for any sign of weakness. How dare they? His wife! His unborn child!

"Check your left," Bill suddenly screamed, and every one of Harry's Co. hesitated. It was enough of a break for Bill to shoot out a vicious bludgeoning hex, hitting one of their own in the back and knocking them unconscious. The surprise at the action  
lasted only a moment before Ron turned defensive to aggressive. Harry could only admire the way defense became attack.

Harry could hear him giving out orders. "Push them back," he yelled. "Get them on the defensive, and then start Disapparating out of here. We'll meet back at HQ."

Harry moved to shield Fleur, almost covering her body with his. As soon as Ron upped the force, so did the opposition and Harry was worried about ricochets. He could take the hit. He was conscious and well. He'd also taken a lot of hits in his life.

To Harry, it seemed to go on for ages. He didn't look up until he felt a soft hand on his back. He stiffened at the contact, expecting the worst, but it was just Luna, looking at him wistfully. She was out of breath and looked surprisingly wired. "I have  
to take Fleur with me," she said and Harry just nodded. "Someone will come for you." He nodded once more and moved out of his human-shield position. The pregnant witch was still unconscious and Harry desperately hoped it wasn't something serious.

"Stay safe, Harry," Luna whispered, and then she disappeared right before his eyes.

Harry blinked a few times. Then cautiously, he peaked over the rock to see that the Battle was dying down. There were fewer people left and Ron, Bill, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ginny and Hermione were some of the only ones from their ranks left. Harry noted  
that they were back on the defensive, now that their other witnesses were safely away.

"Go, we'll cover you," Ron said to Hermione.

In a moment, her wand gripped tight in her hand, she started towards Harry's rock. They locked eyes and he silently willed her to go faster. It was too dangerous out there in the open. Not with the first line of defense so dwindled. If someone spotted  
her, she would be taken out in an instant.

To his horror, Hermione tripped on a stone embedded in the ground, sending her flying forward. Her wand flew through the air, leaving her defenseless. There was absolutely no hesitation as he started forward, crawling as quickly as he could. Hermione  
looked panicked but she knew there was nothing she could say to stop him.

"My wand, Harry," she shouted, merely drawing attention to herself. Better her than him.

He managed to locate her wand by feeling the earth. The wood was hidden in the short grass. He gripped it tight in his hand as he started for Hermione again, just as she was scurrying along the ground towards him. Harry couldn't help thinking about the  
day they visited Luna's father during the hunt. He remembered the three of them crawling like this so they could Apparate together. They'd been successful then; he hoped it would be the same now.

Harry saw it first. The beam of light headed straight for Hermione. Just the sight of it propelled him forward and, once he was close enough, he leaped through the air, intent on getting the full brunt of the curse. He did. It him on the left side of  
his back, making him scream out in pain. As he landed, he felt wet, and he knew it was his blood.

Hermione was slightly under him, able to see the tears filling his eyes as he cowered in pain. She reached for where his hand was gripping her wand. Her own hand closed around his. She had to get them out of there.

But that was the moment he saw them: brown bushy hair and muddy brown eyes. It may have been night time but even he couldn't mistake what he saw. He would know those eyes anywhere. He would be able to pick out that face in a crowd with such ease. With  
their hood off, the face was easily recognisable, and it was like Harry was seeing it for the very first time.

And, as he lay there, clutching onto Hermione in his injured state, with the feeling of Apparition starting to pull on his navel; Harry Potter was quite certain that Julia Ahern was looking right at him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Hermione stared at Harry's still body with eyes stinging from lack of sleep. He was lying on his stomach on the kitchen table of Shell Cottage, unmoving. Hermione felt helpless. With Fleur out of commission, it had been up to Hermione with the help of  
Luna to tend to Harry's deep wound. And it _was_ deep. She hadn't anticipated it being so bad until she caught sight of his hip bone. She'd started to cry immediately.

Now, three days later, the raven-haired boy - because he was still sometimes a boy in her eyes - still hadn't opened his eyes. Ginny had floo called Hogwarts to consult with Madam Pompfrey but there was only so much the Mediwitch could do without actually _seeing_ the  
patient. They couldn't exactly tell her that they were treating the Muggle Harry Potter either.

As much as Hermione knew about healing, she had no idea how Harry would react to magical treatment. They'd managed to close his wound but it was still rather fresh. He would have a nasty scar - one among many others. It also didn't help that the catastrophic  
injury couldn't be aided with the use of Harry's usual magical core. Hermione was sure that if he were still a wizard, he would have been awake already.

Which was something that actually sparked an idea as to the true way the Order got rid of Harry's powers. She'd need to consult her notes and several books to be sure, but she wouldn't dare leave Harry's side. Not again. Never ever again.

"He's going to wake up, right?"

Hermione turned her attention to the owner of the voice. Ron was sitting on the kitchen counter, staring blankly into the space in front of him. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot. He'd barely had any sleep either. The entire lot of their makeshift  
younger Order was overly sleep-deprived. Fleur and Harry weren't the only two injured in the battle in the meadow at Godric's Hollow, though they were the most severe.

"Hermione, tell me he's going to wake up! I just got him back. We can't lose him again."

Hermione didn't know what she could say to ease his rising panic. She felt it herself. She couldn't lose Harry. The entire world couldn't afford to lose Harry Potter. "I don't know, Ron," she finally said. "I really don't know."

Ron leaned his head back against the cabinet behind him and closed his eyes.

Hermione's eyes drifted back to Harry's body. The one good thing was that he was breathing. But for how long? As she sat there, she knew that she needed to find something to distract herself from the dark path her thoughts were taking her down. She looked  
at Ron. "Do you remember the last day of the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Ron gave her an annoyed look, silently asking why she would pull him out of his reverie for such an inane question.

"Right, stupid question," Hermione said, grimacing. "What I mean is, do you remember if Harry got injured after he went into the Forbidden Forest?"

Ron was confused. "Why after?"

"Because Harry was supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to return from the Forest. The contingency plan Dumbledore set up only came into effect when he rose from the dead. Whatever they did to him, this foreign ritual that I can't seem to figure out for  
sure, had to have happened _after_ Voldemort brought him to the Castle. So, do you remember if he was hit by anything particularly gruesome?"

Ron thought hard about it, even though the last thing he wanted to do was bring the memory of that day to his active mind. He took his time as he relived one of the worst days of his life. How he recovered from it, he didn't even know. "I don't remember,"  
Ron eventually said. "The memory's there but I can't pick through it. You also have to remember that Harry was out of sight most of the time. I don't really remember seeing him until it was just him and Voldemort."

"Me neither," Hermione concluded, sighing. "Maybe we should ask McGonagall if we can use Dumbledore's Pensieve."

Ron's eyes widened. "You don't think, umm, that Professor McGonagall is involved in all this, do you?"

Hermione considered it. If it were true, she knew it would break Harry's heart. Really, it already pulled on Hermione's heart strings. "No," Hermione told Ron, needing to say it as much as Ron needed to hear it.

"Even if she wasn't, do you think that we can trust her? Can we trust anyone right now? I mean, did you see what Susan did to Fleur? Did you see, Hermione? How did we survive one Wizarding War just to get involved in another, against the very people who  
fought with us?"

Hermione looked at him with kind eyes. "Susan's aunt was part of Dumbledore's inner circle. At least that part makes sense. I'd hate to think that she did it of her own accord. I also think that she's the type of person who feels awful about it."

"I don't care," Ron said roughly. "She still did it. She hit a pregnant woman for Merlin's sake!"

"She was aiming for Harry," Hermione said, trying to calm him.

"As if that makes it any better."

Hermione let out a long breath, her tiredness threatening to claim her. No! She had to be awake for Harry. "I think we're getting off topic here, Ron. Harry's injury right now is catastrophic. It's enough to severely deplete a wizard's magical core. If  
Harry was injured in the final battle, then it makes sense that that would aid whatever ritual Aberforth led."

"Okay... but wouldn't his magical core replenish itself? It helps with the healing process and then he's back to normal, right?"

Hermione nodded her head, and then she shook it no. "It would, unless he's been continuously injured. What if he's never had the chance to heal and his core just wasn't able to fix itself?"

Ron frowned. "Hermione, it's been five years. Even without a magical core, he looks to be quite healthy."

She sighed. "I mean, it's just a theory."

"If that theory is right, would we have to do that thing you were talking about doing to get his magic back?"

Hermione swallowed. Even though she discovered the _ritual_ to return Harry's magic, she'd also been dreading it. "I would imagine so. He needs his magic now more than ever. And, to be honest, Ron; there isn't much I do know about all of this. I  
use books. There isn't much about all of _this_ in books."

"You and your books."

Hermione risked a smile. Then, absently, she returned her attention to Harry. "You know, I really thought I could save him this time," she said sadly. "It was my turn, and yet he's the one who saved me. Why does he keep doing that?"

Ron looked at Hermione rather pointedly. "I think you already know the reason for that, Hermione."

She sat back in the kitchen chair she occupied, her body exhausted from too many hours awake. "There you go again. I really hope you haven't mentioned any of this hogwash to Harry."

Ron shrugged. "Just pointing out what everyone sees."

"Everyone?"

He nodded. "Everyone." He looked at Harry. "Except maybe him."

"None of it would even matter if he doesn't wake up. What if he doesn't wake up? What am I supposed to do then?"

Ron slipped off the kitchen counter and walked towards Hermione. He knelt down in front of her. "He's going to wake up. He's survived Voldemort a million times; I'm sure he could survive Susan Bones. But, once he wakes up, Hermione; you have to promise  
me that you're going to tell him how you feel."

Hermione frowned. "Ron, I can't do that. I don't even know what I feel for him. All I know is that I don't want him to die. I was okay just knowing that he was out there, somewhere in the world. But knowing that he's gone for good... I won't be able to  
handle that." While she spoke, she started to cry. It felt like she'd been crying for years.

Ron put his hand on Hermione's arm, just like she usually did to calm him down. It didn't work as well as when she did it. "He's going to wake up."

"He has to."

"We need him to stop whatever is coming. And we need to figure out what _that_ is."

Hermione moved her arm out of Ron's grasp and folded her arms across her chest, almost holding onto herself. "Speaking of, where is Bill?"

Ron stood up and moved towards Harry. "He was supposed to be back hours ago. I'm trying not to think about it too much because we've already got a lot to deal with. What's worrying me is that there has to be a very good reason for him to stay away from  
Fleur." He shook his head. "I should have gone with him."

"You had to stay here," Hermione said, trying to make him see reason. "George even said. They are fine. Your father wouldn't hurt them," she found herself saying. "Your mother definitely wouldn't allow that."

Ron turned back to her, his eyes dark and his features hard. "Right now, Hermione, everything I think I know about my family is useless. Anything we think we know about _anyone_ we know is wrong. I think that what happened at Godric's Hollow just  
proves that. So I don't need you to talk about them. Because right now you know just as much as I do about my own damn family!" When Hermione didn't respond, he started to leave the kitchen, feeling a bit ashamed of his outburst. "I'm going to find  
Luna and Ginny. Are you going to be okay?"

Hermione couldn't bring herself to respond and Ron didn't press her. She watched him walk out of the kitchen slowly, almost waiting for her to say something. Hermione didn't dare say a word more. They were just tired and highly emotional.

Hermione sat a while, watching Harry in complete silence. She figured that if he was going to be quiet in her presence then she would be too. She wasn't sure how long she sat there but, before she knew it, the sun was setting and several people arrived  
at the Cottage. Hermione barely noticed Ginny handing her a sandwich or Hannah giving her a glass of water. When she didn't move even then, Ginny practically had to force-feed Hermione.

"Please, Hermione," Ginny practically begged. "Harry wouldn't want this."

"Ssh," Hermione sounded, moving Ginny's hand away. "I'm listening to his breathing."

Ginny sighed. "Okay." She stood up straight, deciding that Hermione wasn't going to move from the spot she hadn't left in days. With that, Ginny left the kitchen. "She's exhausted," she said softly as she took her position beside Neville on the couch  
in the lounge. "She needs sleep."

"She needs Harry to wake up," Angelina said, just managing to deflect a yawn. She was sitting in George's lap in an armchair. The pair might have said it was to save space for everyone to fit in the room but, really, it was because they needed the comfort.  
"I think we all do."

"Shouldn't we move him?" Katie asked, from her position on the carpet at Cho's feet. "Into a bed or something. The table just seems so uncomfortable."

It was Luna who responded, almost channeling Hermione. "We're waiting for him to get stronger. It's better not to chance it until the wound has had some time to heal. Even levitating him has its drawbacks."

The gathered group just nodded their understanding.

Ron brought them out of their silence by turning to his oldest brother. "Bill, what happened when you went to see Dad?"

Bill shook his head. "Bad things." He looked at George and both of them shuddered. "Seeing as the Order no longer has access to Grimmauld Place..."

"Where do they have their secret meetings then?" Hannah asked.

"I suppose the Ministry, but I doubt that's important. They were at the Burrow when we got there. They had their own kind of triage. Turns out we're not as rusty as we thought. There were people I didn't even recognise."

George continued. "It was chaos. They didn't even notice our arrival until Mum screamed."

"Did they attack?" Ginny asked, even though she really didn't want to know the answer.

"No," Bill answered. "We walked in by ourselves and then, nothing. We spoke in the kitchen. Well, they spoke. I pretty much yelled the entire time. Thankfully Andromeda wasn't there."

"Which was good," George added. "She's the one who started the fighting in the first place."

"And Aberforth," Neville muttered. After everything that they had gone through with the man in his seventh year, he couldn't quite believe that such a man for the cause would resort to such drastic and unnecessary acts. Neville was sure that _this_ wasn't  
what Dumbledore would have wanted.

Nobody mentioned that Harry had provoked them with the truth of his words. There was no excuse for firing at someone who didn't have the ability to defend themselves. It made Ron think of Harry's father trying to fend off Voldemort the night he died.  
Ron suspected that Harry probably would have done the same thing. And, in his own way, he had. It was the very reason he was lying on that kitchen table and not Hermione.

"Did you see Susan?" Hannah asked.

Bill clenched his fists, determined not to think of the person nearly responsible for the death of his family.

George answered. "She was there. She was fine, as far as I could tell. We weren't really there for her. We were there to try to figure out what they know about what the Muggles have planned for us."

"How did you know it was her?" Katie asked Bill.

"She was the only one who didn't react when I shouted 'Check your left,' as if she was trying very hard not to draw any suspicion. She's lucky all I did was hex her." The hatred in his voice kept the group silent for a good minute before Ron broke it.

"Did you get anything from them?" he asked. He was standing in the corner of the room, watching over everyone as if he was their protector. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about Fluffy, which was such a stupid thing to be thinking about at a time  
like this.

"Very little. They're as much in the dark as we are, and they're the _Ministry_. What could we possibly find out that they couldn't?"

"We're supposed to have what they don't have."

All heads turned to the source of the voice. Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway, looking completely dead on her feet. How she was able to stand, nobody knew.

"Hermione," Ginny sounded, rising to her feet immediately.

"It's Harry," Hermione said, her knees shaking. "He stopped breathing. I don't know, I tried, everything... I can't... I think he's... He, I, we... I, love..." Then, to collective horror, Hermione collapsed, her form hitting the ground with a hard thud  
before anyone could even react.

And, as Ron went to kneel at Hermione's side, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that he was currently the last remaining member of the Golden Trio fit and healthy. He and Hermione had struggled when it was just the two of them; how on earth would  
he survive on his own?

* * *

When Ron finally crawled into the single bed beside Luna much later that night, he had only one thought on his mind: sleep. Unfortunately for him, Luna had other ideas. She turned to face him, her face mere centimetres from his. Ron felt reassured by  
the feel of her breath on his skin. Especially after the day they'd had. It was comforting knowing that Luna was there and that she was safe.

They weren't alone in the room. Neville and Ginny were in another single bed, curled up and sleeping soundly. Dean and Seamus were sprawled out on the floor, each of them alert in their unconscious states. The sounds of sleep were comforting as well as  
annoying at the same time.

"I never thought I would be more grateful for the fact that you have such stubborn friends," Luna said, her voice calm and soothing.

"Are you talking about the fact that you practically _brought_ Harry back to life? Or the fact that once Hermione came to, the first thing she wanted to do was see Harry?"

Luna shifted further into him and let out a long breath against the skin of his neck. "Both."

Ron probably wouldn't admit to anyone just how scared he had been. Watching Hermione drop like a sack of potatoes pulled on every heart string he had, even breaking a few. Even though their relationship hadn't worked out in the end, he still cared deeply  
for her. To see her so beaten was almost as bad as having to deal with Harry's constantflirtation with death. "Do you know why he stopped breathing?" Ron asked cautiously.

Luna steeled herself, unsure if saying the dark words was a good idea or not. "He died, Ron," she eventually said. "For two minutes, Harry Potter was dead."

Ron played down the gravity of that statement by making a light comment, even allowing himself to chuckle. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

Luna decided not to comment, choosing to allow him to deal with the trauma of almost losing his two best friends in the same day however he saw fit. She wouldn't even be able to say how she would handle all of it. She'd descended quite terribly after  
her mother's death. And, after her father's, she'd found purpose. Even so, she was still just another orphan of the War. There were too many.

"How did you finally get Hermione to sleep?" Ron asked, suddenly too frightened to go to sleep.

Luna waited a beat before she responded. "I might have drugged her... And, before you say anything, it was for her own good though."

"She won't see it that way," he muttered.

"I don't really care," she said strongly. "What she's doing is irresponsible and hazardous to the lot of us. We need her as much as we need Harry!" She huffed, her own hidden emotion rising to the surface. "At least Harry is out of the woods now. He's  
looking a lot stronger. I think he just had to find the will to keep going, to come out of this. His colour is even steadily coming back."

Ron let out a tired breath. It felt like he'd been running a marathon and he was finally seeing the finish line. If Harry could just wake up, everything would be okay. It was all he allowed himself to believe as he lay there, wrapped up in Luna's calm  
warmth. When Hermione had walked into the lounge, all talk of Bill and George's visit to the Burrow had evaporated. Whatever 'bad things' that had happened were sidelined, and Ron knew that he would have to talk to his brothers about it, however reluctant  
they appeared.

"What Hermione said, when she saw Harry, it was weird, right?" Ron asked, needing clarification from just one other person.

She thought back to the incident. Ginny had had to restrain Hermione when she woke up from her fall, her need to see Harry so powerful. "Do you mean when she asked for how long he hadn't been breathing?"

He nodded. "It was just the _way_ she asked it."

"Like how?"

Ron didn't know how to respond. After the conversation he'd had with Hermione much earlier in the day, something about it all felt rather off. Or on. In a split second, it came to him. How couldn't he have seen it before? Of course Hermione would still  
be thinking about the future, even in her walking dead state.

Harry had died for two minutes. Just an opportunity to exact part of the _plan_. Ron shuddered. It was just a step in the _ritual_ to get Harry's magic back. At least this way neither Ron or Hermione had to be the ones to stop Harry's heart.  
He'd done it all on his own.

Ron couldn't even say he was surprised.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The best part of unconsciousness, Harry decided, was the quiet. He enjoyed it, even reveled in it. He was alone with his endless, rampaging thoughts, and that was okay. When he was starting to come to, he heard the voices. It started with rumblings from  
tones he couldn't recognise, and soon became whispered conversations by worried voices he knew all too well.

"Harry," a voice whispered right by his ear. He even felt their breath on his skin, ruffling his hair. "Please, Harry, you have to wake up. She won't survive losing you like this. Not when she thinks it's her fault."

Harry was made oddly aware of a hand resting on the back of his head. It was a familiar hand, slender fingers and warm tips.

"Please," the voice whispered. "I know you can hear me. You've even got that thoughtful look on your face." Ginny even let out a thoughtful chuckle. "It's different than your normal pained look."

"No, it's a look of constipation," another voice said. George. Bless him.

Harry managed to open one eye, even groaning for good measure. When his second eye fluttered open, his vision was blurry and he could barely make out the face right in front of him. He needed his glasses.

"George!" Ginny exclaimed. "His eyes! I think he's waking up."

"Well, don't give him a headache as well, Gin. The poor boy's been through enough without having you add to his pain."

Ginny scowled at her brother, eyeing him painfully. Turning her attention back to Harry, she noticed that his eyes were focused. She'd never been more grateful to see the striking green in all her life. "Hello, you," Ginny said softly, her hand running  
through his hair again. "Welcome back."

Harry tried to move, but Ginny placed a restraining hand on his bare shoulder.

"Don't move, Harry," George said. "Your wound, it's still healing. Hold on, let me get Hermione."

Harry's eyes darted around, as if he was already searching for her. He started to move, forcing himself to turn onto his side. He needed to be able to see Hermione properly when she came in. He groaned in pain, a stabbing bolt shooting to his left side.

George put his hands firmly on Harry's back, holding him down. "Stay still, Harry. For Merlin's sake! You're going to rip your wound wide open if you keep this up."

Harry's eyes lost focus again as the pain moved through his entire body, claiming him once more. He slipped into unconscious before he had the chance to lay eyes on the only face he wanted to see.

"Idiot," George muttered as Ginny returned with Hermione, Ron and Luna.

Ginny stopped at the sight of Harry's now still body. "What happened? He was awake a second ago."

George shrugged. "You know, when he's up again, you can ask him," he said sourly. "I tried to tell him to stay still but one mention of Hermione's name and he all but wanted to fly off the table."

All eyes turned to the witch of topic, who felt a slight burn in her cheeks. What was this?

"I think he passed out from the pain," George added. "Lu, you haven't got any more pain potions, do you? I doubt he'd be able to stay awake for long without one anyway."

Luna just nodded once before she disappeared from the kitchen, grateful for something to do.

Hermione looked rather shaken. "He, uh, he really woke up?" she asked softly, her eyes drifting to George.

The redhead nodded vigorously. "I swear he was awake. Focused and alert. And as stubborn as ever, as you can probably tell."

Hermione moved towards Harry and knelt down at the edge of the table. She stared at his face for a while, determining what was so different about his facial expression. He appeared calmer, more content in a way. It lasted about an hour.

Hermione shifted into a chair and sat much closer at his side than she usually did. She even held onto his hand, trying to will him to come back to her. She was there to witness the change in his facial expression, as if whatever thoughts he was having  
were troubling him.

Harry woke up a few hours later. He didn't open his eyes at first. His head shook as if he was fighting some truth, which roused all those around him. Several people were standing around the table and him when his eyes finally flew open and he uttered  
one word.

One word was all it took to shatter Hermione. Not just her heart, but her entire being. One word and Hermione released Harry's hand, realising that she actually _couldn't_ be holding onto it. Not the way she was; like it was a hand that belonged  
to her. It didn't. Harry didn't belong to her; not the way everyone seemed to go on about it.

Because the word Harry uttered wasn't just a word. It was a name. And it was not Hermione's.

It was Julia's.

Hermione shouldn't have been surprised but her eyes still stung as if even his unconscious mind was rejecting her. Hermione backed away, needing to get away before anyone could see.

Ron was too engrossed in welcoming his friend back from the dead that he didn't see Hermione back right out of the kitchen and disappear out of the cottage entirely. Harry, again, was trying to roll over, but Ron wasn't having any of it.

"Honestly, Harry, I will stun you if you make another move," Ron warned, his tone serious.

Harry stopped moving, silently glaring at Ron. "She was there," Harry said through gritted teeth, riding the wave of pain as he stopped moving.

Ron frowned. "What?"

"Julia. At the meadow. She was there. I saw her. She did this to me. She was going to do this to Hermione. She was there."

Ron's frown only deepened. "Julia Ahern? Your Julia? Your girlfriend, with all the shopping bags and the food and the smiles and the understanding? _That_ Julia... is a witch?"

Harry's eyes flashed with anger, darkening right before Ron's eyes. How could he not have seen it before? No wonder they'd managed to get through the wards at 87 Bollinger Rd without setting off any alarms. Julia had brought them in. It was the only thing  
that made sense. "She's part of the Order," he said harshly. "They've probably known where I was for years, sent her to keep an eye on me. I'm so stupid. I should have known it was too good to be true." Harry started to move again, desperate to get  
up. The last thing he wanted to be doing was lying there on his stomach, doing nothing. He'd never felt more useless in all his life, and he'd spent the last few days feeling especially useless.

"Stay. Down." Ron pressed his hands down on Harry's back. "What is wrong with you? Are you _trying_ to kill yourself? Don't you remember that you're the one we need to end all this talk of eradication?"

Harry suddenly didn't even care, fighting against the pressure on his back. "Hermione. I have to see Hermione."

The pressure on Harry's back slackened, but did not disappear. Ron scanned the faces in the kitchen, most of them a tad confused as to what exactly the two men were talking about. "Where is Hermione?" Ron asked generally.

It was Ginny who slipped away, muttering something about going to get her. Ginny had to admit that she was a little thrown. Nobody had ever mentioned someone named Julia. Harry had a person; he had someone who wasn't her or Hermione or Cho or... He'd  
found a life with a Muggle woman, and he'd left them all behind like they'd meant nothing.

No. He'd done it to protect them. Everything he'd done in his life was to protect the people about whom he cared. It was part of who he was. How could she begrudge him the fact that he'd found someone to end his loneliness? Even if whoever he had _found_ turned  
out to be some sort of well-positioned spy for the Order.

Ginny searched the Cottage for Hermione to no results. She was sure that the witch hadn't _actually_ left. She wouldn't. But something was keeping her away for now and Ginny suspected it had quite a bit to do with Harry's sudden utterance of Julia's  
name. If only Hermione had stuck around to hear more.

Giving up on the inside, Ginny stepped out of the front door, her eyes raking over the beachfront. They settled on a lone figure standing about a hundred metres further up the beach, completelystill in the whipping wind. Cursing under her breath,  
Ginny made her way towards the dark-robed figure, her mind thinking hard about how to approach the topic that was clearly bothering the seasoned witch.

"Hermione?" Ginny eventually called out once she was close enough. "Hermione, he's awake. He's asking for you."

Hermione took her time turning to look at Ginny, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She felt like an idiot. She'd sat at Harry's side non-stop, stupidly forgetting that whatever she felt for him didn't even matter. How could it? He was with someone else.  
He was in love with someone else. She was filled with such unexplained hurt that she couldn't even allow herself to be elated with the fact that he was awake.

What was worse was that she really had no right to blame Harry. How could she? Especially after they'd nearly lost him.

"Hermione?" Ginny prompted once more, stepping closer to the witch with her arms folded tightly across her chest. "He wants to see you."

"No," Hermione said sadly. "He wants to see Julia."

Ginny shook her head. "Merlin, the both of you are such idiots. Such, stupid, stubborn idiots!"

Hermione frowned at her friend. "Well, thanks."

"He's _asking_ for _you_ , Hermione!" Ginny said hotly. "He wants to get up off that damn table and come and find _you_. Is that what you want? Because he'll do it. He'd rather rip his wound open, face losing even more blood than spend  
another second without seeing you. Are you really going to do that to him, because you can't get over the fact that the first thing he said was the name of that backstabbing good-for-nothing witch who put him in this position in the first place?"

Hermione's eyes snapped towards Ginny, alert and tear-free. "What?"

Ginny grabbed hold of Hermione's arm and started to pull her back to the Cottage. "Come on!"

Once inside, the two women were made aware of the conflict going on in the kitchen.

"Harry, please, just stop moving! She's coming. Ginny went to get her. Stop! Merlin, just stop! You're going to end up passing out again and then you won't have seen her. Stop!"

When Ginny and Hermione entered the kitchen, Ron was practically sitting on Harry's back, forcefully holding him in place. Any other day, it probably would have been amusing, but the entire situation was just... _sad_.

Harry's eyes locked on Hermione at the same time hers locked on him, and he immediately stopped struggling, allowing the fight to leave him. "Hermione?" he whispered.

One whispered word was all it took to get her moving. She dropped to her knees right by his head, her fingers immediately caressing his cheek. "Hi."

He managed a smile. "What took you so long?" he asked, his voice scratchy.

She let out a light laugh. "I had things to do," she offered as explanation. "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry about that," he said softly, his eyes never once drifting from her face now that Ron had put his glasses on for him. Really, the entire thing was amazing to watch. The way they looked at each other made everyone else in the room suddenly seem  
irrelevant.

Hermione's hand moved from his cheek to his hair, her fingers claiming his raven strands as their own. "You almost died, Potter. Don't do it again."

That made him laugh, which then made him cough. Once he recovered, he sighed. He'd have to tell her about Julia. He'd have to say it out loud and accept that the woman he'd spent years loving was nothing more than a pawn in the plan to keep him in line.  
She was probably tasked with finding the Cloak of Invisibilityand, when she didn't deliver, they'd had to resort to other, more unconventional, methods.

"I'm so glad you're back," Hermione finally admitted, sensing whatever inner turmoil was going on in his head.

Harry swallowed. "Luna said I died," he said seriously.

Hermione nodded somberly. "You did."

Harry looked thoughtful. Then, his eyes brightening slightly, he asked a question she should have known he would ask, "Did it work?"

* * *

It took Harry begging and pleading for up to thirty minutes for Ron to give in and levitate him into a new position. They moved him to an armchair in the lounge and he curled up on his right side, settling into the cushions like he'd just found an oasis  
after days in the desert.

The fact that Harry knew Hermione had proceeded with the ritual to bring back his magic made Hermione feel a bit uncomfortable. She hadn't responded to his question, though she assumed that her reaction had been enough to answer him in the affirmative.  
As yet, they hadn't been alone long enough to talk about it further. Only she, Harry and Ron knew about the complete list of steps required to return his power to him. Hermione even wished that stopping his heart was the easiest step. Thankfully,  
the incantations she had said and the runes she'd scribed seemed to have worked. A simple diagnostic spell had told her that the restarting of his life had, in fact, rebuilt his magical core, though it remained empty and would remain that way until  
she had the chance to further the ritual.

"Do you need anything?" Angelina asked Harry.

He deftly shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment. When they opened again, they settled on Hermione sitting quietly on a couch next to Ginny. The women were holding hands, which actually made Harry smile. Once his smile faded, he turned his attention  
to Bill. "How is Fleur?" he asked.

Harry was relieved when the redhead smiled. "She's doing well," he said proudly. "So is the baby. We're keeping a close eye on them both but they're both recovering well."

"That's good," Harry said, the relief washing over him. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days," George answered. "You really took your time waking up, didn't you?"

Harry lifted his head to give George a sour look. "What's happened?"

It was Ron who responded. "Bill and George went to the Burrow," he started to explain.

"Why would you do that?" Harry asked, his eyes widening.

"We had to," Bill said. "We needed to get more potions for you and Fleur. And I had to look my parents in the eye. I had to see it for myself..." His voice caught as it trailed off, the emotion of what he learnt getting to him. "Things were fine until  
Percy showed up and revealed the terrible, dark truth. I don't even know who those people are, Harry. If that's supposed to my family then I'd much rather have none."

Nobody said anything for quite some time. Harry kept his eyes closed as he rode a wave of pain, though he couldn't tell if it was emotional or physical.

"What else did you learn?" Harry eventually asked.

"Dad has a contact in the Muggle world," Ron explained. "Reinhardt or something. I remember him mentioning the name a few times. If we can track him down, we can probably get more answers."

"And then what?" Dean asked.

All heads turned towards him.

He continued. "The Muggles want to take out the wizards, and the wizards will do everything they possibly can to stop them, which pretty much means taking the Muggles out, right? It's going to be another war. How are we supposed to stop any of _that_ from  
happening?"

"We have Harry," Hermione said, speaking for the first time since the group settled down in the lounge. "According to the prophecy, he's the one with the power to control whatever happens in what is to come. So long as we're aligned with him, there will  
be a way to end this peacefully."

"I think we're a little past peacefully here, Hermione," Ginny pointed out.

Harry coughed, not used to getting so much air into his lungs. "What I do know is that The Zuri has something to do with whatever is going on. I saw something about it on Kingsley's desk. Scared him half to death when I brought it up."

"The Zuri?" Hannah asked thoughtfully. "Is that a place?"

Harry blinked. "I don't know. It could be, or it's some kind of company. It's a lead. So is Reinhardt. I don't think we can afford to ignore anything right now. These are all things that could lead to more answers." Or more questions.

Heads nodded but nobody said anything for another while.

Harry was the one to break the silence he had pulling them into. "I want to apologise," he said softly. "I never wanted any of this to happen. We were just supposed to go there and talk, and I let things get out of hand. For that, I'm sorry." He looked  
at Bill when he said the last part. "I'd understand if you wanted to leave right about now. I could never ask you to enter another war."

The silence lasted all but a second before Neville - of all people - spoke up. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. We're all still here because we want to be. If we're the only ones who can stop a war, then we're going to do it."

Harry just nodded. It was something he'd needed to say and, now that he had, they could all move forward.

"We'll get started on it in the morning," Ron said. "I think we're all just relieved that you're awake, Harry. At least now we can all get some rest. Something tells me that whatever is to come is going to take a lot more out of us."

That was the last thing anyone said until the first person rose, bid the group goodnight and headed to bed. Slowly, the room emptied until it was just the Golden Trio left, as if some silent understanding passed over all those involved.

"So," Harry said, his eyes asking questions of Hermione. "I think you owe me an answer."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Ron sat down on the couch with Hermione once he'd draped a light blanket over Harry's still shirtless form. On top of Harry's freshest wound, there were countless scars on his body, telling stories of countless Battles against the terror of Voldemort.  
Ron even shuddered at the sight, his mind wondering how he could have ever been jealous of his best friend's _fame._ If this was what it got him, he'd much rather be Ronald Weasley.

But, even then, _that_ wasn't turning out to be so great. His parents were at the forefront of all that currently irked him. Sometimes he couldn't even believe the way he'd acted towards Harry. He'd been such a child then. He couldn't even imagine  
what life would be like without his magic, but he strongly suspected that he was now going to have to learn what it was like living a life without parents. He still hadn't even told them that he was engaged.

Both Ron and Harry kept their eyes on Hermione, waiting for her to explain herself.

Hermione took her time, quietly enjoying the presence of her two best friends. "It worked," she finally said.

Ron swallowed. "But how? When?"

"I was listening to his breathing," Hermione continued to explain. "I had to hear if it stopped. If it did, I could perform the first step of the process. I figured that it could be the only good thing to come out of what happened at Godric's Hollow."

"But how did you manage it?" Ron pestered, his tone of voice filling with a mixture of hurt and anger. "You were exhausted. How could you even try such a thing, when you knew how dangerous it was? To yourself! To Harry! Do you have any idea what you put  
me through? I could have lost you both!"

Hermione didn't respond for quite some time, waiting for him to calm down sufficiently. "I had to try, Ronald," she said softly. "I believed Harry would come back to us. I'm sorry but I had no other choice but to follow through with the step when I felt  
no pulse."

Ron shook his head. "That's precious time you wasted!" he almost yelled, the anger bubbling from deep within him. "What if we had been too late? What if Luna didn't manage to revive him? He could have died, Hermione. I'd much rather he be a Muggle than  
he be dead."

Hermione glared at him. "And you think I didn't think about that as well, Ron?" Her tone was harsh, accusing. "You don't think that all I want is to take Harry away from all of this, keep him safe somewhere and just live? You don't think I can't _tell_ how  
this all looks! I'm not stupid, Ron. I know all the possibilities. I made a calculated risk, because you know as well as I do that Harry would never forgive himself if the fact that he didn't do everything to get his magic back was the reason we all _died_!"

Harry just listened in silence to the way they were going on about him. His two friends seemed to forget that he was sitting right there, listening in to their heated debate over something that seemed so trivial now that it was done. He ended up having  
to clear his throat, making them both look at him and burn red in embarrassment.

"Tell me more about it," Harry said to Hermione.

"Based on what I knew before, Harry; your magical core had, essentially, been removed. I researched ways for that to happen and brought the options down to a few possibilities once you told me that Aberforth was the one to lead the ritual. He had to be  
working under Dumbledore's orders. I had to start thinking like Dumbledore would have."

Harry just nodded, not finding it necessary to speak.

"From what you told me of Kingsley's knowledge of the ritual they did and the way he asked to look at your hands; I was able to zone in on two possibilities. Harry, they used Dark Magic on you."

That wasn't very surprising to any of them, which was about as sad as Susan Bones hitting a pregnant woman in the back with a particularly nasty hex.

"Dark Magic, as you know, is irreversible."

"And bloody painful," Harry added.

Hermione knew all too well how painful an Unforgivable could be. "My enchantments and runes allowed me to essentially reset your magical core, and when, umm, you, uh, died, you came back with a fresh core. To put it simply."

"How fresh?" Ron asked, trying to keep her talking about things not related to the fact that she had allowed Harry to stay dead for an uncountable amount of time, just to take a step towards getting his magic back. He doubted it was something he would  
get over quickly. He also couldn't fathom why Harry wasn't angry.

"Like a newborn baby."

"Which means he'll only have control of it in eleven years' time?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He has a core. No magic. Just the core."

"I don't understand."

Hermione was silent for a moment as she tried to find the right words to explain what was happening within Harry, who was sitting quietly and watching her intently. They hadn't had the chance to talk and she was secretly hoping that Ron would give out  
and go to bed before Harry fell asleep again. "I think that Harry was catastrophically injured during the ritual," she said, eventually turned to Harry. "It killed your magic, but it didn't kill _you_."

"Surprising," Harry muttered.

"A wizard's magical core exists within the body but the ability to replenish, use and control it starts in the brain."

"They injured my brain?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in mild horror.

"They've never stopped."

Harry closed his eyes as he fought off another wave of pain. This time, he knew it was an emotional wave. "How could Dumbledore have allowed this?" he asked sadly. "These were all people who were supposed to care about me. Sirius never would have allowed  
them to do it."

"Neither would Remus and Tonks," Ron added, his voice somber.

"And now they're dead," Hermione said, her tone bitter. "They're Dark. They're the Darkest. They killed their followers who didn't agree with their ideals. I mean, it's one thing to believe in something so strongly but an entirely other thing to force  
it so severely onto unsuspecting people. All this terrible stuff that they've done; I think we should still be thankful that they didn't just kill you, Harry."

"Because then we'd really be screwed," Ron muttered. "You're the only one who can save us now."

Harry's gaze drifted from Hermione to Ron. "Save you from what?" he asked curiously. "We don't even know what we're going up against. Because, right now, we have two enemies, right? The Order, and whatever the Muggles have concocted for the Wizarding  
World's ultimate demise. How are we, a band of random misfits who happen to harbour traitors and a single defenseless Muggle supposed to stop the world from burning to the ground all around us?"

Both Ron and Hermione just stared at him. He looked utterly defeated, both physically and emotionally. They exchanged a worried look and Ron shook his head.

"Julia," he mouthed when Harry closed his eyes once again. "Witch. Order spy."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No?" she mouthed back.

"She hit him with that hex," he mouthed, hoping she would understand.

From the many swear words Hermione mouthed, Ron was sure that she understood. "I'll kill her myself," she whispered hotly.

"Good," Ron whispered back. "Because she was aiming for you, remember?"

Hermione's face twisted in anger she couldn't even explain. It was rage she'd never felt before. In all honesty, she probably would have had the means to utter an Unforgivable. And, what was worse, was that Hermione wasn't even really angry for herself.  
She was livid because of Harry. What more! Ah! What more could those wretched, miserable excuses for human beings do to this poor poor boy who deserved nothing more than a happy, decent life? Hadn't he suffered enough? Hadn't he been forced to endure  
enough? How did they sleep at night?

Ron watched in amazement as Hermione's emotions played out on her face, shifting back and forth until she managed to calm down enough to let out the breath she'd been holding. Her cheeks were red with anger and her lips were pressed together in a tight  
line.

Once she felt calm enough, Hermione looked at Harry. "Harry, are you sleeping?"

"Hmm," he sounded, though he didn't open his eyes.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" she asked.

"I want to talk to you," he said, his voice barely a slur.

That was the moment that Ron took his leave. There would be time to talk when the sun came back up. It was too scary to have such conversations in the dark anyway. Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder in support before he mumbled a goodnight to the both of  
them, letting them know that they should wake him if they needed anything.

Harry opened his eyes once Ron was gone, his gaze seeking out Hermione. She was already looking at him, her eyes pained and kind and sorrowful. "He told you?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry."

Harry risked a smile. "It's only fitting though, isn't it?"

"What?"

"How could I have been so stupid to think that someone could actually love _me_?" He sounded lost, even broken, and Hermione knew that there were certain things that she could not say to him. Not when he was like this; not at a time like this. "I  
really am nothing without my magic. So bloody pathetic. The one thing I was so sure of, that I was so proud of, turns out to be a nasty, vicious lie. How do I even know if any of it was true?"

"She probably does love you, Harry," Hermione found herself saying, for his benefit only. The words tasted vile in her throat.

Harry's eyes snapped towards her in anger but he didn't say anything. He just looked at her and, slowly, the anger left his eyes as they softened at the sight of her. Eventually, he cleared his throat and started to speak again. "Why didn't they just  
kill me? Really, it would have been so much easier."

Hermione wanted to deftly argue with him, but even she had to admit the validity of his observation.

"They could have just ended it all when I was seventeen. This all just seems like so much work for something that could have been so simple. I mean, if I was gone, they'd be no prophecy, right? If I was gone, the Muggles wouldn't have anyone to use. Nobody  
would have to worry about my going Dark because I'd be dead." He let out a long breath. "With me out of the picture, none of this would happen. Even now, if I die, both the Order and the Muggles can relax, knowing that _I_ won't suddenly rip  
through either of their ranks in misguided terror. They _should_ have just killed me."

"Harry?"

"Yes!" he almost yelled. "This is worse, Hermione. I'm still just some pawn. I want it to end. Don't you want that? I want that." He stared hard at her. "You should have waited longer."

Hermione's eyes bulged.

"You should have waited longer. When I stopped breathing, when my heart stopped; you should have waited."

Hermione really didn't know what to say to that. Out of everything she expected him to say, this was not it.

Harry closed his eyes again, hating himself for his own words.

Hermione sifted through her thoughtsuntil the anger got the better of her. "You insufferable git!" she hissed. "Ungrateful, repulsive, disgusting," she muttered. "I've spent days, endless hours worrying over you and your stupidity and this is all  
you have to say me? I should have waited _longer_? Are you kidding me right now?"

Harry said nothing. All he did was look at her blankly, his eyes relatively unfocused as waves of pain threatened to engulf him.

"You want to die so badly; you can do it yourself!" Hermione huffed and angrily folded her arms. She looked away from him, her eyes boring into the coffee table in front of her.

Harry stared at her for another while. He was mad... at himself, really. For everything before and everything now. And everything to come. Whether he liked it or not, this was his life.

"I'm sorry," Harry eventually whispered. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't hate me. I just woke up from death and I found out that my girlfriend is a backstabbing wench and that I've probably got a permanent brain deformity. You have to forgive me."

Hermione took her time looking back at him, her gaze softer and thoughtful. "You're allowed this oneindiscretion, Potter; but you've got to get it together now. We need you. _I_ need you."

Harry just nodded, relief washing over him. He knew this whole thing would have been a lot more difficult without Hermione. And Ron.

He waited another while, trying to organise his thoughts. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, "What you were saying, umm, about my head injury... I do get headaches sometimes. It's a dull, throbbing pain, that doesn't go away when I take a painkiller. Could  
that be it?"

"Maybe."

"You said that they've never stopped," he said, recalling her words. "That I've stayed in this injured state for all these years. How could that be?"

Hermione did not want to have to tell him her theory. Really, it was the only possible theory. When she dropped her gaze, it came to Harry.

"Oh," Harry said softly. "Julia wasn't just a spy, was she? She kept me injured. While I slept right beside her, she performed magic on my brain, keeping me powerless." Before Harry could stop himself, he started to cry. It all just came out of him. Everything.  
All of this was too much. Just a few weeks ago, he was living comfortably with his perfect girlfriend and working in his neat little cafe without a trouble. It had been such a good, easy life. To think it all a setup was painful. It was near heartbreaking.

And now what did he have? All he wanted to do was go home. He _needed_ to be able to go home. He didn't ask for any of this. He'd already been the saviour once before. It was tiring. He was just so very tired.

At the first sight of his tears, Hermione stood up and moved towards him. In complete silence, she sat down on the armrest of the couch and drew him in towards her, holding his head against her. She repeatedly ran her hand over his hair, trying to soothe  
him in a way she hadn't done since they were teenagers. Hearing him cry made her want to start as well but she knew she had to be strong for him. She could cry for Harry later.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered against her. "I'm supposed to be stronger. I'm supposed to be better. You aren't supposed to see this."

"You've seen me cry before, Harry. I think it's only fair."

He let out a small, muffled laugh that tickled her skin through her top. Then he yawned, coughed and sighed in quick succession.

"I think it's time for bed for Mr Potter," Hermione said, moving to extricate herself.

Harry wanted to protest but he knew she was right. He was barely holding onto consciousness at this point but the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

Hermione stood up and stretched. She fixed the light blanket over Harry, covering him further. "Are you comfortable?" she asked, still bent over him.

He nodded, his eyes never once leaving her face. "Where do you sleep?"

Hermione did not want to admit that she didn't actually have a place to sleep because she had spent all of her time in a chair next to his unconscious body. So she pointed to the couch instead. "Right there."

Harry didn't even try to mask his relief. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his forehead, just to the right of his fading scar. "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

Harry had bad dreams. In every one, he didn't get to Hermione in time to be hit with the hex instead of her. In every one, Hermione was struck right in front of him, his name the last thing she said before her eyes rolled back, never to be seen again.

He woke up several times during the night, out of both types of pain. He was so relieved whenever he looked towards the couch and she was still there. Julia hadn't taken her away from him.

By the time the sun started to rise, Ron and Bill were already wake. Hermione found them in the kitchen, nursing cups of coffee. Ron poured a cup for her when she sat down and nobody said anything for a good minute.

"Were there any problems last night?" Bill eventually asked.

Hermione shook her head. "It was a bad sleep, but he slept."

"And you?" Ron asked.

"Same."

Both men just nodded absently.

"He's not all right," Hermione said cautiously. "It's bad. I don't think he's ready for what is to come. It's too much right now. He's too... distraught."

"What can we do?" It was Ron.

"I don't know."

Bill let out a long breath. "Look, he still has quite a bit of recovering to do. We'll discuss this at a later time." He waited a beat for their nods. "Right now, though, we need to talk about what's going to happen today."

"I'm sure they know where we are," Ron said sadly. "Dad could bring them here if they were keen on attacking. They're probably treating their injured and gathering reinforcements like us. But, if they weren't sure before; Susan has probably told them.  
We'll have to relocate."

"Where?" Hermione asked.

Bill responded. "Talk to Harry. It's my understanding that the Potters and the Blacks have several ancestral homes. If we can find a new base, set up suitable wards; we should be able to maintain cover until we figure some other things out."

Ron spoke next. "Bill, Dean, Seamus and I are going to find Reinhardt today. I have a reasonable idea as to how to find him. We'll probably be gone all day." He waited for any questions. When none came, he continued. "Luna, Ginny and Neville are going  
to tackle the issue with The Zuri. I don't think getting Hannah to do anything right now is wise. After everything that's happened with Susan; her support of us might be wavering. I've got Cho and Katie keeping an eye on her.

"They'll stay here with George and Angelina to help out if anybody shows up before we can move to a new HQ. Hermione, you'll need to create portkeys for everyone, preferably to wear around their necks. We need a strong evacuation plan. You saw what happened  
at Godric's Hollow."

Hermione nodded her understanding, adding to her mental list of things to do in their absence.

"What happened that night was uncharacteristically emotional," Bill said. "I honestly don't think that they intended to fight us. But, now that they have, they won't stop. They realise the importance of Harry. If they want to avoid a War, they'll need  
Harry." Dead or alive.

"Do you think they'll come for him?"

"Definitely."

Hermione looked at Bill. "How can you be sure?"

"Molly told us when George and I were there," Bill said.

The fact that he referred to his mother as Molly was not lost on Hermione. She hoped that the relationship was not completely severed that they wouldn't recover from this. "Bad things, huh?"

Bill nodded somberly. "I wish that was all..."

"What?"

"She said that, if Harry didn't join them, Andromeda would happily hand over Harry's dead body to the Muggles as a sign of good faith."

"They're going to kill him?" Hermione asked softly.

"Mutterings of what they should have done in the beginning apparently. They'd stupidly taken it to a vote and decided not to."

"If they caught him, they could just use the Imperius if they wanted him to do their bidding so badly!" Hermione said. "It's better than killing him."

Bill turned to Hermione, his eyes sad. "He's a Muggle, Hermione. It's practically the same thing."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

From Bill's words, Hermione was able to gather that getting Harry's magic back was her number one priority. Once she was done creating portkeys for the boys, they left. Luna, Neville and Ginny left as soon as theirs were done as well and Hermione felt  
strangely alone as she sat completing the rest. She had just finished when Harry woke up for the final time.

She watched as his eyes took their time adjusting to the light. He let out a slight groan, even yawning for good measure. He fumbled about for his glasses and he was able to find them on the table to his right before she had to intervene. When his gaze  
settled on her, he seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"You're here," he stated softly.

"Good morning," Hermione said, setting the portkeys aside and shifting until she was perched on the edge of the couch. "How are you feeling?"

Harry took a moment to survey his own body, moving around slightly to figure out how much pain he was experiencing. When he didn't move, he could barely feel a thing. When he did, however, it was like needles were being pressed into his left side. He  
decided not to tell Hermione that, though he was sure that she could tell from the grimace on his face.

"Slightly ashamed," Harry eventually admitted, his gaze unable to meet hers.

"As you should be."

He risked a smile. "I didn't even say thank you, for, umm, saving my life, I suppose," he choked out, trying not to recall his various nightmares from the depths of his unconsciousness.

"I didn't say thank you either," Hermione pointed out.

Harry sensed the end of that topic of conversation. They had been involved in too many Battles to start thanking each other for life-saving heroics now. "What are you doing?" he asked, shifting ever so slightly.

"Making portkeys. Today is a busy day for our makeshift team of bandits," she said with a genuine smile. She went on to explain to Harry what their various friends were up to and he listened in thoughtful silence.

"I think it is a good idea to relocate," Harry eventually said. "Perhaps we can find some place where you don't have to sleep on the couch."

"And there I thought you wanted me close," Hermione said, her voice void of any amusement, as much as she tried.

"I do," Harry said just a seriously.

Her gaze never once left his. "Good, because I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

Harry was saved from a response by George and Angelina entering the lounge, hand in hand.

"Oh good," George said. "You're awake." He looked at the woman beside him. "I told you I heard voices."

"Yes, George, you're a regular Seer," Angelina humoured him as she led them to an armchair. Once they were both settled, they looked at the younger witch and Muggle expectantly.

"I believe we have things to discuss," George began.

It didn't take them long to get the location of a suitable Potter residence from Harry. It was obscure enough that even the Ministry wouldn't think to look for them there. George even mentioned that he thought Harry's family was just full of surprises.  
Harry was courteous enough not to return the _compliment_.

Harry was sure that the property was abandoned. It was somewhere in the Scottish country side and Harry had never actually visited it. As far as he knew, there were no wards, but they would have to be careful when they first visited. Harry was too injured  
to Apparate just yet so George, Angelina and Katie were chosen as the discovery party. Hermione, Cho and Hannah stayed behind to keep an eye on Harry, Fleur and the baby.

Hermione had to reinforce the wards with all she had, seeing as their numbers were severely depleted. While Harry and Hermione were alone in the lounge, he took the opportunity to query her about the _bad things_ that George and Bill seemed determined  
not to talk about... at least to him.

Hermione appeared reluctant and Harry reasoned that it was probably best not to push her. Eventually, though, she relented: "Molly told them that they're coming for you, Harry. With deadly force this time. She wasn't going to do anything to stop them.  
She couldn't."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart. "What about the Cloak?"

Hermione shook her head. "Something must have changed. Maybe they don't need it anymore, or they found another one. Maybe it was all a ruse to draw you out to get the prophecy. They wanted to force your hand." She looked down at her hands. "I sometimes  
get the feeling that we're doing exactly what they want us to. Every move we make is somehow telegraphed by them and we're continually playing into their vindictive plans."

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't know, really," she admitted. "But what I do know is that they don't expect you to get your magic back."

"Then they definitely underestimated you."

Hermione risked a look at him. "Are you mad at me?"

He frowned slightly. "For what?"

"Well, Ron mentioned that what I did was irresponsible... I just, umm, seized the opportunity. I know that I couldn't have, umm, actually stopped your heart myself. I suppose it was unsafe, but I don't regret it."

"Because it worked?"

She nodded. "Which means that we're another step closer."

Harry shifted, trying to sit up straight. "When do you want to start?"

She stood up from the couch and moved towards him. Slowly, purposefully, she knelt down in front of him. "Harry, the next part of the process is for you to do. I can't help you with this next part." She waited for his nod, before touching the point on  
his chest where his heart lay with a slender finger. "You have to look in here, and clear up here," - she pointed at his head - "for the rest to work. You have to _want_ the magic back."

"But how will I know?"

Hermione smiled slightly, her eyes drifting over his soft face. "You'll know."

That piece of information really didn't help Harry as he watched her stand up and exit the lounge. At this point, he _wasn't_ certain that he did want the magic back. It carried so much weight. If he were wizard again, he'd be responsible for ending  
what could be a terrible, horrible war, that could have been avoided if good men had chosen to do nothing.

Merlin.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Really, the whole thing made him think of his Occlumency lessons with Snape. They hadn't been productive at all, and he'd spent months blaming it on the slimy professor. Maybe even years. If Snape had  
just shown more interest, tried harder, then maybe Sirius would still be alive.

It took a Muggle Harry to realise that it'd been _him_ the entire time. If anyone was to be blamed, it would be Harry Potter. He had to admit that his disdain for the man had also clouded the way he approached the lessons. Okay, they were both at  
fault. And Dumbledore! He had to know that putting them together would end disastrously.

These thoughts weren't helping. He needed to clear his mind, somehow find a way to reach into himself, find his own magical core and open the door to let the magic in - whatever that meant. From where, he didn't yet know, but he trusted Hermione with  
everything that he had. And, right now, he was sure that all he had to offer was the breath in his lungs.

He would give it up if it meant his friends would be safe. Of that much, he was absolutely certain.

Harry unknowingly began to think about Julia. Bloody Julia Ahern. He wanted to be mad, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel the emotion. Somehow, it was just something he _could_ accept. He did have lots of questions though. It all seemed so  
elaborate, really. How serious was the Order about keeping him in line? How big of a scheme had it been really? Was her father really the man he met? Was he even dead? What about the bistro? Was it all just a front? Was her name even Julia Ahern?  
If not, where was the real woman?

Why did they pick _her_ to be his love interest?

Despite himself, Harry knew the answer to that question. Which undeniably brought his train of thoughts right back to Hermione Granger. She fascinated him. In fact, she'd _always_ fascinated him. There were things he felt, that he wouldn't dare name.  
There was a big chance that he wouldn't survive this next part of their latest Battle. Whether he regained his magic or not seemed moot when there was yet another bounty on his head. This was supposed to be the _good_ Ministry.

Those were mutually exclusive words, Harry surmised. He even chuckled, which hurt his side more than he would admit. If he'd ever felt powerless before, he definitely felt it now. He didn't even think he had the strength to stand and possibly go to the  
bathroom on his own. He also suspected that he smelt rank. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?

Harry suspected that he'd been magically cleaned several times, but even he knew that nothing compared to a hot shower.

 _Clear your mind, Harry._

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the armchair. It was difficult to think of nothing.

Before he knew it, he was thinking about his parents. And Sirius, Remus and Tonks. They were all the reasons he was alive today. He knew it before, but now he knew it for sure. They'd fought for him, not just against Voldemort, but against their own as  
well.

Harry suddenly thought about Teddy Lupin. He hated that he'd failed his godson, even though he had managed to keep discreet tabs on the growing little boy. He hoped to Merlin that he would never find out whatever role his grandmother played in the death  
of his parents. Nobody needed that. Harry vowed then to do all he could to do right by the little boy, wherever he was.

Which was the moment Harry managed to clear his mind. How he did it, he didn't know. For just a sliver of a moment, he had looked within and what he saw scared him. It was dark. _He_ was dark.

His eyes snapped open in alarm and he swore aloud.

"That bad, huh?"

Harry looked to the source of the voice. George was standing near the window, looking curiously at the raven-haired man.

"You're back already?"

George nodded, turning his body to face Harry fully. "You were right. The place was completely deserted. We did a thorough search. There were a few latent wards. We broke them, and set up new ones. Hermione will cast more when she gets there."

Harry just nodded.

"Katie and Ange are still there now, cleaning up as best they can. I came to inform everyone it was safe. Hermione is preparing Fleur for travel as we speak."

"Any news from Ron and Bill?"

George shook his head. "Nothing yet. They said they would check in at two o'clock. We'll use the time to inform them of our new headquarters."

There were things Harry knew he had to say, and George knew he had things to say as well; but both men left them unsaid. They _knew_. They could have whatever conversation they had to have when all this was over. Even so, George did have pressing  
questions.

When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. "After everything Andromeda said about Remus and Tonks, and how they dared to defy what they wanted to do to you... Do you really think that's why they're dead?"

Harry swallowed. "The Battle had too many moving pieces, George. I can't be too sure. It would be difficult to ensure such a thing did happen."

"But they could have been placed in a more dangerous area on purpose," George pointed out.

"Perhaps," Harry had to agree.

"Do you think the same thing happened to Fred?"

Harry was quick with his response. "No." He took a breath. "If you had no idea about the ritual, what makes you think he did?"

George looked down at the ground, suddenly unable to meet Harry's gaze. It was all Harry needed to see the truth.

"You did know, didn't you?" the green-eyed man asked curiously, feeling absolutely no anger towards the remaining twin.

"Not specifics," George admitted. "We heard talk of some power ritual. We didn't know what it was for or who it was about. Honestly, Harry, if I had known - " his voice cracked. "I don't even know what I _would_ have done, but it would have been  
more than nothing."

"Damn you and your Extendable Ears, right?"

George risked a smile. "I'm really sorry, Harry."

"George, really, there's nothing to apologise for. It's done now."

"You're a good man, Harry Potter."

"So are you, George Weasley."

They looked at each other for another short moment before George returned to looking out the window and Harry rested his head back once more. Harry considered trying to look within again but it was a little too scary. It was almost as if the demons were  
preparing to attack. All he knew was that he didn't want to face it alone.

A little while later, Hermione returned to the lounge to find Harry asleep and George still standing at the window.

"Did you tell him about the plans?" Hermione asked George.

"Sort of," he admitted, sneaking a look at the sleeping form of Harry Potter. "Is he feeling better?"

"I'm about to check the wound. I have to administer a few potions, and then I can determine if he's fit to travel. Fleur is ready to go, and I think Cho and Hannah are itching to leave as well. They could help with the cleaning."

"Do you think it's safe for us to take Hannah there?" he asked, bringing up the concern over Hannah's loyalty. There was no doubt she was loyal; the question was just to who.

"I don't think we have much of a choice right now," Hermione admitted. "She's still here, isn't she? And I'm getting antsy the more time we spend here. Today just feels like it could be a bad one if we don't move quickly. We're lucky enough they haven't  
come for us yet."

George nodded his understanding. "Okay, I'll take Fleur first, get her set up, and then I'll come for Cho and Hannah. By then, hopefully, Harry will be ready, and the rest will be back. Though I doubt that."

"Ron mentioned they might be gone all night."

"I don't like this," he admitted. "Having us all split up like this. It's like we're asking to be attacked!"

Hermione did that thing where she put a hand on his arm and it did wonders to calm him down. Really, the witch must have some kind of calming powers in her hands. Just her touch had such an effect on Weasley men.

And, perhaps, Potter men.

Hermione had to wake Harry up to get a closer look at his wound. It hurt to move but he happily did it, just to feel her hands on his bare back. Such soft hands, such trusting fingers. She rubbed a soothing balm over the deep slash and he even moaned  
from the sheer relief. The nasty tasting potions didn't even bother him.

"Did you have any success?" Hermione asked Harry once she was done working on him. She covered him with the light blanket once more.

"A little," he said truthfully. "It was, umm, quite scary, to be honest."

"I thought Harry Potter wasn't afraid of anything," she said, her eyes smiling.

He appreciated what she was trying to do. "Has George taken Fleur to the new house?"

Hermione nodded, shifting from kneeling at his side to sitting on the couch. "Left a little while ago. Hannah and Cho are packing things up. They'll head over there soon."

"And you?"

"Us."

Harry managed a smile. "Okay, what about _us_?"

"Rest a bit more and then we'll discuss our options," she told him. "George might have to fly you on a broom if I deem you not strong enough."

"What? You wouldn't fly with me?" he asked, sounding amused.

She glared at him. "I wouldn't make fun of the person responsible for your recovery, Potter," she said hotly, though he could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.

"Duly noted, Healer Granger."

Hermione shot him one last look before she rose to her feet and disappeared from the room. Harry must have fallen asleep because, the next thing he knew, someone was violently shaking him, shouting for him to wake up.

"They're here!" someone screamed. Ginny maybe? "The wards are starting to fall!"

Harry barely had time to focus his eyes before someone tugged him up and out of the armchair. It hurt like hell, but it had to be important so he didn't protest too much. Harry tried to make himself as light as possible but whoever had him slung over  
their shoulder was still grunting from the exertion.

"Is he strong enough?" the person asked, his voice rushed and breathless.

"Just go!"

Harry knew that voice belonged to Hermione. He would know it anywhere. What was going on? He needed his glasses to see clearly.

"Neville!" It was Hermione again. "Take him! Just go! We're right behind you! I'll get Ginny!"

There was a piercing scream and Harry felt his heart drop. The person holding him - Neville - swore, and Harry sensed his hesitation. It took another bark from Hermione - something about Neville taking _hers_ and she getting _his_ \- to get Neville  
to activate his portkey. The feeling literally pulled at Harry's wound, and he couldn't hold back his pained howl as they were transported to some new location.

He landed ungracefully on the ground, and was quick to roll over onto his front, as if it could turn down the stinging in his left side. It didn't. Harry fought the tears but it was no use. The pain was bordering unbearable and he was sure he would end  
up passing out.

"I'm sorry, Harry." It was Neville, right by his ear. "But I have to stun you."

Harry wanted to argue but he knew it was the best option for them, given the circumstances. He stopped writhing in pain, long enough for Neville to put him out of his misery, if only for a little while. The last thing Harry heard before the spell impacted  
with his chest was the sound of his own heart beating.

In that moment, he looked within.

It was dark.

So. Very. Dark.


	17. Chapter 17

This one was tough to write.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

To Harry's great surprise, nobody commented on the fact that Hermione did not locate her own sleeping quarters in the new headquarters. Based on what she said about never letting him out of her sight again, he was pleased when she retired to his bedroom,  
the master suite of the abandoned mansion. While George had been the one to aid Harry in the bathroom, it was Hermione who put him to bed. Harry hated feeling so useless but he quite loved having her attention, like he was some toddler or something.

Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking that she would make a great mother. He also couldn't stop himself from telling her just that as she climbed onto the bed beside him, crossing her legs and preparing to have the talk they'd been avoiding since  
Ron floo called from somewhere deep in Central London. She was dressed in flannel pyjama bottoms and an old white t-shirt, and all Harry was wearing was the pair of jeans he'd been wearing that night at Godric's Hollow.

Of course, Hermione made sure they were clean. It didn't even matter, though, because it wasn't as if he had other clothes to change into. There was no point in risking a trip to 87 Bollinger Rd. Julia could be there. He even shuddered at the thought.  
Would he ever actually see her again? Did he even want to?

"Do you really think so?" Hermione asked softly, meeting his gaze and searching for even the hint of an untruth.

"I do," he replied, steel in his voice.

She smiled slightly. She didn't mention that they first had to survive _this_ before they could even think of children. And plus, she was nowhere near where she wanted to be in her life to even think of bringing poor, unsuspecting human beings into  
this world.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked him.

"Truthfully, I'm a little confused," he admitted, shifting a bit so he could look at her properly. "I don't really know what happened before we left Shell Cottage. Or after, for that matter."

"What's there to know, Harry," she started tiredly. "They came, they attacked. We got out of there as quickly as we could."

"But _what_ happened?"

"You were asleep," she said. "George and the girls were already here. It was just you and me."

Harry took in a shaky breath. "But... Neville?"

"The attack arrived with them," she explained. "It turns out that they'd been a little _too_ successful with their enquiry into The Zuri."

"I got that much from what Luna was saying," he said. "But _what_ happened?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," she said firmly, allowing her frustration to get the better of her. "What do you want me to say?"

Harry wisely did not respond.

She took a calming breath, her features softening. "Look, I don't think that it's important for _you_ to worry about what's going on out there right now. _We_ can handle it. You should be worrying about getting your magic back. After today,  
you _have_ to get it back. There's no choice now."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling the fear of the darkness within him rise to the surface. Could he tell Hermione about it? Would she think him weak? Would she run away screaming for the hills?

It wasn't even a question, really. Hermione had always stayed. Harry had been the one to leave this time around.

Hermione gently let her hand rest on his arm, making his eyes open. "What do you want to know?"

He smiled slightly. "How did they find us?"

"Neville, Luna and Ginny followed members of the Order all day, and one of them led them to The Zuri. They thought they were lucky, catching sight of wizard robes during a shift change in Order surveillance."

Harry shuddered at that piece of information. He'd been present for most of Neville, Luna and Ginny's retelling of the events of the day. Despite the unfortunate end to the day, they now knew that The Zuri was a Muggle vacation resort on the south coast  
of England. It, apparently, was the base of operations for the Muggle contingent of this new conflict, and members of the Order rotated shifts on scheduled patrol.

Harry couldn't fault them that - keeping tabs on the enemy was key to success, wasn't it?

Unfortunately they weren't able to gather much else on the compound itself. It would have been better if they had managed to get a look inside but Harry wasn't complaining. The fact that they had found it was a feat in itself.

Well, not really.

Ginny mentioned that they were led there. Somehow, the Order caught onto their presence and the Order _wanted_ them to find the Zuri, just to have them let their guard down, hoping to catch them out when they least expected it.

All three of them were angry and deeply apologetic about the fact that it actually worked.

"It was a trap, of course," Hermione continued to Harry. "They were caught out, but they were allowed to escape. Several Order members piggybacked on the escape, and then they arrived with them, within our wards."

Hermione immediately thought of their own narrow escape from the Ministry all those years ago. She'd inadvertently brought a Death Eater into Grimmauld Place and they'd never gone back again.

She hated that that was what Shell Cottage was now reduced to. It was Bill and Fleur's home, and now it was uninhabitable until this entire thing was over. If it ever would be.

"I don't think they wanted to engage in a full-on attack," Hermione said. "I think they just wanted to get into the wards. But, of course, nothing ever really goes to plan for anyone."

"As we both know."

She smiled softly. There were so few things that they could look back at and appreciate about the Hunt.

"Why did Ginny scream the way she did?" Harry asked. "I didn't see her get hit with anything."

Hermione couldn't look Harry in the eye. "Umm, well, I suppose that it was quite a scare," she forced out. When Harry just gave her a look, she sighed. "It wasn't really about her. Or it _was_ , just, umm... Okay, there may be a reason, but I _can't_ tell  
you. Just know that she's all right now. We're all fine, now that we're here; now that we're safe."

Harry just nodded. She would have told him if he needed to know, but it did pique his interest. "Do you think that Ron will be back by the morning?"

Hermione checked her watch. It was just before midnight. "Based on what they have planned for later tonight, I don't know," she admitted. "I think we'll know more when they check in with us after the approach."

The approach.

Harry felt supremely uneasy about the entire thing. If the events of earlier in the day were anything to go on, then proceeding with Bill's plan tonight just didn't seem, well, necessary. It could've been another trap.

Hermione sensed his unease and gently put a hand on his arm again, calming him instantly. "It'll be fine. They'll be in and out of there without anyone even knowing. We need to know what this Reinhardt man knows, and the only way to do that without tipping  
off the Order is to go at him now."

"You should be with them," Harry said, looking her in the eye. "You're the best at Obliviation." He said the words slowly, meaningfully, alluding to something in her past that she and her parents desperately wanted to forget.

Hermione took her hand off his arm and wrung her fingers together. "I'm needed here," she said simply.

Harry's eyes never once drifted from her face. "Indeed you are."

There was a long silence, in which they just stared at each other, their eyes doing more talking than their mouths ever could. There were things that Hermione knew she couldn't say to him. She wasn't able to determine if he was the one not ready to hear  
them or if she was the one not ready to speak the words. It was a truth she'd held onto for so long, and now it was staring at her right in the face.

Harry Potter.

She was in love with Harry Potter.

"Lie down with me," Harry said coolly, breaking into her overwhelming thoughts. "I have to tell you something."

Hermione masked her hesitation by taking a deep, calming breath. She shifted her body until she was lying on her side, facing him, but not touching him. She was, however, close enough that they were sharing a pillow and she could feel the heat of his  
body; his alive, warm body.

Harry took his own steadying breath before he spoke. "I'm scared, Hermione."

"Of what?"

"What if it all goes wrong? What if, if I get my magic back, I turn into what everyone fears I'll be? What if I was always destined to be something Dark?"

Hermione contemplated his questions for a moment, quietly considering asking him from where they came. Something must have happened for him to be thinking these things. "Do you trust me, Harry?"

"Of course."

"Then believe me when I tell you it won't happen. I won't let it happen." She reached out to touch him, her fingers featherlight on the skin of his cheek. "There is no choice now. You _have_ to get your magic back. Whatever is going to happen is  
going to happen, and we all need you in a way we've never needed you before."

"It's Dark," he said, almost blurting it out.

"What?"

"Inside me, Hermione. It's Dark. Like, the place I'm supposed to find within, it's hidden in darkness, untouchable. I don't think I can do it." He sounded panicked, his rate of breathing picking up rather dangerously. "I can't - I just can't."

"Harry," she whispered, her fingers sliding down his cheek to his neck.

"What if I don't do it right? What if it's all Dark when the magic comes? I'm sorry. I - " his voice caught. "I'm not brave enough. I'm not a Gryffindor anymore, Hermione."

"Look at me," she said strongly. "You are not alone anymore."

"But you said that I had to do it alone; that I was the only one who could."

Hermione used her finger to touch his temple. "In here, Harry; you have to go at it alone - " she dropped her finger to his point at his heart " - but not in here."

He laughed lightly. "Has anyone told you that you're adorable?"

Her amusement hid her shock at his words. "No, I don't think that anyone has."

"Well, now I have," he said, smiling at her, even though he still felt breathless. He guessed, at this point, that he wasn't out of breath because of his earlier thoughts - it was because she was so close, and her hand was splayed over his heart. He could  
smell her and she smelt wonderful.

Hermione couldn't stop her blush and she had to look away from his face.

Harry felt equally embarrassed but he couldn't stop looking at her if he tried. The silence that fell over them was Harry's cue to close his eyes. It wasn't difficult looking within when Hermione was right there. Despite everything, she made him feel  
grounded.

Before Harry emptied his mind, he flooded it with thoughts of his parents. It just seemed like the most pleasant thing to think about without confusing his own emotions. It took him a while to feel calm enough but, when it happened, it happened quickly.  
It was almost too easy, the way he slipped through his own defences, searching, feeling for his own magical core. It was like a permeable sack that Harry just _knew_ he had to enter. _He_ had to be the one to open it to the outside.

Somehow, the magic had to have a way to get in.

It was a strange sensation moving through the skin, but not particularly unpleasant. It was dark enough for him notto know if he was coming or going but, for the first time, he wasn't afraid of it. He didn't know how he did it but he came to a stop.  
It was completely serene wherever he was. And silent. He couldn't even hear himself breathing.

That part scared him.

He was alone.

Completely.

He felt like he was at the Dursleys' all over again, locked away in the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs. This was a feeling he never wanted to experience again, and now he was doing it willingly.

"You're okay, Harry." It was Hermione. Somehow, her voice was breaking into the silence. He hoped his facial expression wasn't giving too much away. He didn't want her to see just how weak he was. "You're okay."

 _I'm okay._

A certain calmness fell over him and he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He went from fearing it to accepting it, to even enjoying it.

He was okay.

When Harry's eyes opened, Hermione was smiling at him. Nay, she was positively beaming.

"You did it," she said. "I felt it. I saw it, like a glow. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted."

She let out a breath. "Then you should get some sleep."

"I don't think I can," he admitted. "I'm worried about Ron and Bill and Dean and Seamus. Our plans have never run smoothly."

"We were kids back then, Harry," Hermione said. "They're Aurors now."

"Doesn't mean I can't worry."

Damn. She was definitely in love with Harry Potter.

As if his body was intent on betraying him, Harry yawned.

Hermione smiled knowingly. "Get some sleep, Harry. I'll wake you when we get news from Ron, okay?"

He still looked unsure.

"It's okay. You're okay. I promise I'll be right here."

At that, Harry closed his eyes.

He was okay.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open in alarm. Someone was banging on the door of the master suite, waking up both occupants.

"What the - " Harry asked, his brows furrowed.

"I'll get it," Hermione said, deftly moving away from Harry - why were they so close - and sitting up. She quickly got up and went to the door, easily slipping out to find a frantic looking Ginny staring at her. "What? What?"

Ginny grabbed her hand. "Come! Now! It's Fleur."

Hermione tensed at the sound of that. Why couldn't they just have one good thing happen? Was it too much to ask? She allowed Ginny to pull her down a corridor towards a rather large room. Fleur was lying on the bed with nearly everyone around her, save  
for the four men still out trying to gain information from Reinhardt.

"Thank Merlin," George exclaimed at the sight of Hermione.

"We didn't want to bother you at first," Angelina explained. "But it's serious now."

Hermione moved towards Fleur, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took hold of one of her clammy hands. "What's happening, Fleur?"

"I don't know," she admitted, her breath raspy. "It just 'urts."

"What? What hurts?"

Luna spoke up. "She was complaining of back pain earlier," she said. "I gave her a mild pain potion, but it hasn't stopped."

Hermione took a deep breath, her mind running a mile a minute. No no no. "Is it constant pain? Or does it come in bursts?"

"Bursts," Fleur answered, taking sharp breaths. "It stops for a while, and then comes back. It's getting worse."

"And more frequent," Luna added.

Hermione immediately stood up, her face paling. "We have to get you to St Mungo's."

"What?" It was George. "We can't go to St Mungo's. The Order will know. The damn Ministry will show up!"

"I'm not a Healer, George," Hermione rushed. "Fleur needs a Healer."

"Why? What's wrong with her?"

Hermione stepped back. "Isn't it obvious?" She looked at each of their faces before her eyes settled on Fleur. "The baby is coming."

The first person to react was George who, to everyone's great horror, fainted. Next was Neville, who collapsed right beside Ginny, making her jump. Before Hermione could say a word more, the room erupted in mild panic, women fretting over the fainted  
men and the overly pregnant Fleur.

"Non," Fleur said over the noise. "I'm not due for another three weeks."

"This baby is coming right now," Hermione informed her.

At the news, Fleur let out a flurry of French swear words that made Hermione smile for a moment. Then she remembered that she would have to birth this baby and her smile disappeared.

Hermione let out her own swear words, and nearly everyone balked at her. "Sorry," she muttered. "Umm..."

"Hermione?" Luna was looking at her expectantly. How was it that everyone turned to her at a time like this? What about Hermione Granger told them that _she_ was the one to handle all of this? "What do we do?"

"Give me a minute."

They did.

For a long while, nobody said a word as they watched Hermione think. They could almost see the cogwheels turning in her head as she recalled things from various books she had read in her many years.

"Okay," she eventually declared. "There's a baby coming. Let's get ready." She barked out orders to the people around her and, together, they managed to get Fleur comfortable enough for the delivery.

But it didn't help that Fleur blatantly refused to push when the time came.

She would not have her baby without her husband. And as much as they pleaded with her, she did not budge on her stance. She moved to lie on her side in the foetal position and shook her head, out of fear, they all suspected. It wasn't something anyone  
would want to do alone.

Hermione was the last of the makeshift team of midwives to reach the level of panic that required her to take severe action. She had them clear the room before she moved to kneel in front of Fleur.

"Fleur," Hermione cooed, gently moving some hair off of the woman's face. "I know you're scared. I know you want Bill here, and you know he's on his way. He's coming. Fleur, you have to push. Please. Think about the baby. The longer we wait, the more  
dangerous it becomes."

Fleur closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. "Non!"

Hermione let out a frustrated breath and stood up. She was trying to understand. On another day, she was sure that she would but right now, she _needed_ Fleur to push.

The idea came to her rather quickly, and she headed for the door. Her various nurses were all standing at attention when she emerged from the room. She put a hand up to stop their questions. "Keep trying," she instructed. "I'm going to get reinforcements."

Harry must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knew, Hermione was gently shaking him awake, her gaze a mixture of panic and pleading. His eyes immediately settled on her, even if they were unfocused.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I need you help," she said softly. "How calm are you right now?"

"Calm?"

She nodded. "I need someone calm, Harry. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay."

"Can you get up?"

He nodded. Slowly, he rolled over and used his arms to lift himself up. Hermione helped him keep his balance once he was standing upright. "Maybe I need a shirt," he said, looking down at himself.

Hermione stepped away from him, suddenly remembering how close they were standing. "Sure, I'll just transfigure one for you."

Once he was dressed, Harry followed Hermione as quickly as he could as she led him to a room that felt like five hundred kilometres away.

Hermione paused at the door and turned to face Harry. "Fleur's in labour. She's refusing to push. I need you to make it happen, Harry. She _has_ to push. _Now_."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's putting a lot of pressure on me."

She reached up to kiss his cheek. "If you can get it done, I promise I'll do just about anything."

He raised an eyebrow. " _Anything_?"

Hermione blushed furiously and she had to look away. "Come on." She opened the door and revealed quite the sight. Ginny, Luna and George were kneeling at Fleur's side, practically begging her to push, while Fleur remained resolute, even in her obvious  
pain and discomfort.

"Fleur," Harry spoke up, shuffling towards the French witch and dropping to his knees in front of her, claiming the position Ginny had just vacated.. " _Mon amie_ , what is happening?"

Fleur just looked at him, blinking away her tears.

"Hermione tells me that you don't want to push. Is this true?"

She managed to nod. "I need Bill. I can't do it without 'im. I need 'im 'ere."

"And your baby needs _you_ ," Harry told her, his voice soft but stern. "All of us, here, we're here for _you_ , but only you can be here for your baby. Bill entrusted you to look after him or her. He's left you to protect your baby because  
he believes you will do all you can to get it here safely. Am I right?"

She nodded once more.

"And how do you think he would feel if he knew you weren't doing that?"

Hermione merely stared at Harry. Was he really going to guilt a pregnant woman into giving birth?

Yes, yes he was.

Harry continued. "What would Bill think? He'd be disappointed, Fleur. As am I. You are a strong, independent woman, and you know that this is what you _have_ to do; what you _need_ to do. You need to be strong for your baby, and do the thing  
you know you have to do.

"So, Fleur, I'm going to ask you now, knowing that _we_ are all here for you, are you ready to push?"

She took a shaky breath. "For Bill?"

Harry nodded. "For you. For your baby. For your _family_."

At Fleur's steady nod, Harry looked at Hermione and nodded ever so slightly. Then he winked, and Hermione fought the urge to hit him on the head.

George patted Harry on the shoulder and smirked. "Just when you think he's down and out; Harry Potter is back at it again with the saving the day thing."

Harry just smiled, as he took hold of Fleur's hand in both of his. "Time to make Bill proud. Let's meet this baby."

Victoire Hermione Weasley was born at 04:47 that very morning. Besides Hermione, Harry was the first person to hold the miraculously healthy child in his arms. He sat with her, his back against the headboard, while an exhausted Fleur slept just to his  
right.

Hermione watched him as he basked in the beauty of their little family's newest member. It was beautiful to watch.

"She's perfect," Harry whispered to nobody in particular. "I can't wait for the boys to get back now."

Even as he said it, it never would have crossed his mind that little Victoire would never have the opportunity to meet her father.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"The first thing she's going to do when she wakes up is ask for him." It was Katie. She was one of the only people left standing in the front hall of their new headquarters. The group hadn't moved in quite some time, out of shock mainly. And fear.

This was never supposed to happen.

Bill Weasley should not be dead.

But they'd all seen it with their own eyes. Ron could barely contain himself when he arrived at the house, clutching at his oldest brother's limp body as if he could somehow transfer part of his life to him. Dean and Seamus looked utterly spent, and nobody  
said anything for a good minute as the truth of what they were witnessing sank in.

Bill Weasley was dead. Unliving.

Ginny collapsed, and Neville just managed to break her fall. That movement sparked a chorus of tortured wails and silent tears, but only Harry didn't react. He didn't know why he didn't, but he just _couldn't_. If he did, he was sure he would never  
return from wherever his mind would take him. Behind her tears, Hermione had watched him, waiting, seeing.

George blanched and immediately reached out for Angelina, who wrapped her arms tightly around him, determined to keep him from falling apart. He kept asking what had happened, but Ron was in no condition to explain.

"Maybe we should keep her sedated," Hannah suggested, her voice barely audible at this point.

"She'll hate us all."

"What do you think, Hermione?"

The witch in question wasn't paying attention to the conversation playing out in front of her. She was too preoccupied with what _could_ have happened. Only she and Harry knew one way the evening _could_ have gone, and it frightened her to silence.

What was worse, really, was that she'd seen that same flash of fear in Harry's eyes before he'd disappeared back up the stairs, probably heading up to sit with the sleeping mother and baby. Luna had been quick to lead Ron away somewhere, and Angelina  
had done the same with a sputtering George. Dean and Seamus had disappeared at some point, seeking solace after what proved to be an emotionally charged day. Neville had to carry Ginny away and, soon, all that was left, were a group of witches all  
looking to Hermione for answers.

She had nothing.

She was still crying, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her vision was blurry, but it was still enough for her to know that the long blob on the table in the dining room just across from her was, indeed, the dead body of one William Weasley.

What a waste.

"Hermione?" It was Katie again. "What do we do when Fleur wakes up?"

Hermione took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes. "We have to tell her," she declared, her voice breaking. "She has to know."

"Shouldn't we wait?" Cho asked.

"The longer we wait, the worse it'll be," Hermione said sadly. It was the truth.

"Who is going to tell her?" Katie asked.

Hermione was too tired to be making all these decisions now. And why was _she_ the one to be making the decisions at all? "I think we're all still in shock," Hermione said softly. "We can talk about it some more later." At that, she moved passed  
them and into the dining room where Bill was lying, looking strangely peaceful.

If anything, he looked to be asleep.

"Oh Bill," she whispered, moving towards him. It had been her idea to levitate him onto the table when Ron had dropped to his own knees.

Oh Ron.

Hermione's heart seemed to break even more. Fleur. Victoire.

Hermione wondered if Molly knew. What would she say then? Which side would she choose?

Ever the practical one, Hermione conjured a white sheet and placed it over his unmoving body, before she cast a powerful Cooling Charm. They would have to do something soon, but now wasn't the time.

Nobody was ready for it.

Hermione shut the doors to the dining room before she made her way upstairs. She didn't even know what time it was, but it suddenly felt as if she'd been awake for years. The corridors were eerily quiet as she made her way to Fleur's room.

Thankfully, the newest mother was sound asleep. Harry was sitting in a rocking chair that hadn't been there before, with Victoire cradled in his arms. He didn't notice Hermione's arrival immediately, and she was able to witness him marvel at the little  
bundle.

Harry looked up when he heard her footsteps as she walked towards him. Hermione immediately noticed the water tracks on his cheeks. "'Mione," he whispered, fresh tears springing to his eyes.

For someone rather injured, Harry was up and out of seat quicker than Hermione could have thought. Before he moved towards her, he set Victoire down in her conjured wooden crib. Harry didn't stop until he had his tired arms wrapped around Hermione, holding  
her tightly, despite the growing pain in his left side.

"I know, Harry," Hermione mumbled against him. "I know."

She did. Hermione knew that, if she had indeed been the one to perform the Obliviation Spell on Reinhardt, as Harry had suggested; then Hermione would be the one lying dead on that dining table.

Hermione _knew_. And so did Harry. Which was why he didn't let go.

Eventually, Hermione led him back to the rocking chair. She magically made it larger so they could both fit, though they were pretty snug. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

"What kind of magic does that?" Harry asked softly, his eyes focused on Hermione's face. "What kind of magic rebounds in such a deadly way?"

"The Darkest kind, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "Whatever spell they put on Reinhardt, whoever performed magic on the man, would suffer a painful death."

Harry shuddered. "Painful?"

Hermione nodded numbly. She did not want to think about Bill's pain.

Harry swallowed as he twisted his fingers in his lap. "I'll tell her," he eventually said, both of them knowing that he was referring to Fleur.

Hermione shook her head. "We both know that you can't, Harry. Whoever tells her is forever going to remain the person who told her that her husband is dead. We can't have your face being a daily reminder."

"Then who, Hermione?"

For a moment, Hermione considered getting a hold of the Patil sisters, just for this very reason. Before they had taken their leave, they'd explicitly told their mini-Order that they would rush back if they were needed.

Was _this_ enough to call them back?

Bill was dead.

Yes, yes it was.

"She's already going to hate me for using Bill against her," Harry said, reminding Hermione of his antics when trying to convince Fleur to push. "I may as well carry the brunt of it all."

Hermione smartly read his facial expression. "How could you possibly think that _this_ is your fault?" she asked, somewhat incredulously, her voice rising ever so slightly.

Harry gave her a pointed look before he cast a look around the room, insuring that both sleeping occupants were, indeed, still asleep.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled. "But you can't actually be serious, Harry Potter? How is what happened tonight your fault?"

"I _had_ a bad feeling," he admitted. He absently touched his scar with his right hand, feeling it tingle. It was as if it knew that something Dark had happened tonight. "I should have known."

"And then what would you have done?"

Harry just stared at her, looking somewhat broken. "Hermione?" he cried.

"Harry."

"It could have been you," he said, voicing what they were both thinking. "If you'd gone; if you'd been the one to perform the Obliviation... Hermione..."

There wasn't much that Hermione could say to comfort him.

Harry dropped his head. "The Order must have known we would try to find Reinhardt. They must have known; the same way that they must have known that you are our best Obliviator."

The Ministry's Obliviators were still trying to recruit her.

"They were okay with killing one of us," Harry continued. "They were okay with killing someone that wasn't me, Hermione. They were okay with killing _you_. It changes _everything_. There's no going back now. We can't have peaceful talks or  
come to some agreement. They fired at us, however inadvertently, but they took _life_. Bill Weasley has now become the first casualty of the Third Wizarding War."

"It's declared."

"Yes. It is, Hermione. We are going to war."

* * *

Ron was still hysterical when Luna got him to their claimed bedroom. He was saying words but they weren't making any sense. She removed his robes, ridding him of the offending garments even as he grabbed at them.

"He's dead, Luna," he mumbled through his tears. "He's dead. Bills' gone. He's dead."

"I know," Luna said softly, guiding him towards the bed.

Ron shrugged her hands off of him and started to pace. "It could have been me," he said, shaking his head. "It could have... It _should_ have been me."

"Ron?"

"We flipped a coin!" he practically yelled, stopping and staring at her. "He even made a joke about it. He was smirking that stupid Bill smirk of his. Then he cast the spell. It was so bloody easy. One two three. And then he was screaming, Luna. He was  
howling, wailing. He was begging for it to end. He," his voice caught. "He's dead."

Luna didn't know what to say to him. He looked broken, as if the end of the world was around the corner. Maybe it was.

Ron started to pace again. "It's War, Luna! They've started a bloody War, because they knew! They damn well knew we would go to him. We were going to find him eventually, and they knew one of us would end up performing magic on him."

"You don't know that."

"I do! They knew! They used us to get rid of Reinhardt. They wanted him eliminated, and they used us to do it. Bill is dead. It could have been me. It should have been me."

"Ron, don't say that."

"He's got a wife, Luna, and a kid on the way. He should be here, instead of me."

"Stop that!" Luna hissed. "You and I both know that Bill wouldn't want you to say things like this."

"It's not fair," he huffed. "How did we even get here? Did my mother know? Did she know this would happen? My father? Percy? Did they know that they could have killed one of us?"

Luna didn't know what to say.

"Everyone knows that our best Obliviator is Hermione," he said sadly. "They wanted to ruin Harry. He'd never be able to get his magic back without her. We all know that. All of us."

"You think they were targeting her?"

"I think that they're doing things, so that whatever happens to us is our fault. We're the ones killing ourselves, not them. They're absolved of guilt in their eyes. Now it's like _we've_ started the war, not them."

"Because the Third Wizarding War has been declared."

Ron nodded somberly. "It has."

"I'm sorry, Ronald," she said, moving towards him and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

Ron just let her hold him, console him. He cried for his brother; he cried for his family and his friends. He cried for his future, and his past and his present. His eyes seemed to dry up and his sobs turned quiet.

That was the moment Luna decided to speak.

"Ron, there's something you should know," Luna said softly.

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "Fleur gave birth earlier tonight. You're an uncle."

Ron started to cry almost immediately once again, his body finding fresh reserves. He said nothing as the tears just continued to fall. Luna wasn't sure how long he sat there crying before he finally looked up at her. "Boy or girl?"

Luna managed a smile. "Girl."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

Ron followed her in silence, his eyes cast down at the marble floors. He'd never felt this way before. Not even after Fred's death. He'd never felt like his entire world was falling apart before. The walls were coming down around him and the earth was  
literally shaking beneath him. There was barely anything he could hold onto to stop from falling through the cracks.

Luna eventually stopped in front of a room and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry about your brother," she said softly.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. He needn't say any words.

Luna gave him one last look before she opened the door to the bedroom that had seen a little _too_ much in this one night.

They were surprised to find Harry and Hermione on what looked to be a transfigured couch. Hermione was sitting upright with the baby held in the crook of one of her arms, and Harry was lying on his side, his head in Hermione's lap. He was asleep, the  
feel of Hermione's fingers in his hair almost lulling him to unconsciousness.

Hermione looked at Ron and Luna as they approached her. "Hey," she said softly.

Ron didn't say anything until he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "We both are."

Ron could barely look at her. He couldn't stop thinking that, if this night had gone a different way, he might not have been able to lay witness to the very alive face before him. He didn't have to say anything, because he knew that she knew what he was  
thinking about.

"Do you want to hold her?" Hermione asked, forcing herself to remove the fingers of her free hand from Harry's hair.

Ron's eyes widened. "Isn't that, umm, maybe, I don't know."

"It's okay," she said. "Come on. Take her."

Ron rose high on his knees and, somehow, Hermione managed to transfer the sleeping bundle to her beaming uncle. "She's so tiny," he said softly, staring at her little pink face. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as he settled back down, turning slightly  
to lean against the transfigured couch.

Luna sat down on the floor opposite him, closer to Harry and, for an indeterminable amount of time, the four of them sat in complete silence. Complete stillness.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from thinking that they were sitting a vigil around Fleur. The devastation that she was surely to see on the blonde witch's face was frightening to Hermione. She strongly didn't want morning light to come.

Ron broke their silence. "What is her name?" he asked, somewhat surprised that he hadn't asked the question earlier.

Luna replied. "Victoire Hermione Weasley."

Ron just about managed a smile when he looked at Hermione. "Always secretly knew you wanted to be a Weasley."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "It was always going to happen some way or the other."

Ron's gaze drifted to Harry. "How is he?"

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "Feeling guilty."

Ron frowned. "Why?"

"There were a few complications getting little Victoire here into our world," she explained.

Luna continued for her, and Ron listened in silence. These were not things that survivors of the Second Wizarding War were supposed to be discussing. They deserved peace.

"So he reckons Fleur is going to hate him?" Ron asked, needing clarification.

Both witches nodded.

"Well, he's always been a bloody idiot," he huffed.

"I heard that."

Hermione looked down at her lap to find one of Harry's eyes open, trained on his red-headed best friend.

Ron kept his own eyes on Harry. "If anyone should feel guilty, it's me. I was there." He went silent for a moment. "Which is why _I_ should tell her. I should be the one. She'll have questions that only I can answer."

Nobody asked him if he was sure.

"What happens now?" Luna asked nobody in particular.

Harry, gingerly, sat up. Hermione found herself missing his warmth but she said nothing. She didn't need to, when he ended up leaning against her. He cleared his throat. "We face tomorrow as it comes," he said, speaking surprisingly clearly for someone  
who had just woken up.

Harry looked at each of their faces, his eyes lingering on Hermione's for longer. He wanted to tell her so many things. He needed her to know... but now wasn't the time.

"I think that Fleur should go to France," Hermione said carefully. "She won't like the idea but it is definitely the safest option. For her, and for Victoire."

Ron nodded his agreement. "I'll talk to her about it."

Nobody was looking forward to that conversation. Ron definitely wasn't envied in this moment.

"Hermione and I will continue to work on getting my magic back," Harry said firmly. "We're almost there, right?" He looked at Hermione.

She nodded once. Their 'almost there' would consist of one of the biggest rituals known in the magical world. It worked on the painful principle that, for something to be given, something had to be taken.

Could she, Hermione, in good conscience, use Bill's death like that? Could she, knowingly, seek profit from the death ofa dear friend?

Wasn't she then just turning into Aberforth? To use death like that... She didn't like it.

Harry noticed. He reached for one of her hands and held it strongly in one of his own.

Ron stared at their linked hands before he looked at Hermione's face. She was positively blushing and deliberately avoiding his gaze. He just smiled internally and patted her knee knowingly, even encouragingly.

"Then we train," Harry continued, oblivious to Hermione and Ron's lack of moment. "We plan, and we get ready. They've started a War that never should have been, and I intend to end it."

The chill that fell over the room almost felt like it was his magic speaking. If this was how he was without a full magical core; they could only shudder to think of how it would be when he was once again the most powerful wizard alive.

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand once more, almost seeking strength from the contact. "And then we fight a War," he said, his eyes turning to steel right before them. "And we win."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione told him that it would be painful. She told it to him as an afterthought, merely to prepare him, because she knew that there was no way he would be backing out now. Despite the fact that he was still considered to be a Muggle, Hermione knew that he could handle the physical pain.

It was the emotional pain she was really worried about.

Hermione could see the loss of Bill etched into Harry's forehead and she just knew that he was carrying it with him. For whatever reason, he was convinced that he hadn't done enough to save the oldest Weasley. She wanted to scream at him whenever she caught him brooding, but it wouldn't do well to raise her voice in a house of mourning.

It was dreary and quiet all around them, the corridors carrying the sadness throughout the entire house. It was as if the entire estate was just blanketed in misery and nothing seemed to offer any sense of light at the end of the extremely long tunnel. The only joy that they seemed to have - the only sign of life - came in the form of a tiny pink bundle. But newborns tended to spend way too many hours of the day asleep.

"How is she?" Hermione asked Ron as he closed the door to Fleur's room behind him.

Ron looked worn out but he still managed the slightest of smiles. "She's asleep."

"And Victoire?"

"With Luna."

Hermione took a deep breath. In just the few days since Bill Weasley's death, several things had happened at their new headquarters. One of those was that Fleur blatantly refused to leave the fight. She insisted on remaining at the house, but agreed to never actually leaving it. Ron, Hermione and Harry were still trying to figure out how to convince her that a return to France was what was safest for both mother and child because none of them were brave enough to tell her that she was making the decision out of grief.

Merlin knew that all three of them also knew how stubborn the French witch could be.

"She didn't cry herself to sleep though," Ron mentioned tiredly. "Which is good, I guess. I think that she's run out of tears at this point."

Hermione could understand that. "Did she want to see Victoire today?"

Ron dropped his gaze. "No. She says she's not ready yet."

Hermione just nodded, her heart twisting painfully. Ever since Ron had told Fleur about her husband's death; she refused to see or hold her daughter. Hermione supposed it was some kind of defense mechanism helping her cope with the loss, but it still broke her heart. She could only imagine what it was doing to Ron, Ginny and George.

They'd sent a letter to Charlie but Ron blatantly refused to tell his parents about anything. Harry kept trying to convince him that Molly _had_ to know but Ron wouldn't allow it. What surprised Hermione the most was that George supported it, _and_ that the rest of the house appeared to allow it. Hermione hated to think what she would feel if she ever found out that her younger children hid the death of her eldest from her. She even shuddered at the thought.

Molly Weasley was going to be devastated.

Hermione knew that Ron and George would come to regret their decision, mainly because she knew they were making the decision out of anger. They were angry, and so they felt the need to punish their family for the role they may or may not have played.

Or maybe they believed that they didn't _deserve_ to know.

What was worse was that Ginny had nothing to say about any of it. In fact, she said nothing at all. The only person she spoke to was Neville and even that was when they were alone and in hushed voices. Hermione tried to talk to her, just like Ginny had tried to talk to her after Harry's injury. Now Hermione understood, and she desperately wished she didn't.

This was all too hard.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, breaking into Hermione's thoughts.

"Downstairs. In the room." The _room_ was somewhere in the lowest part of the house where the Ritual would be performed. Hermione found it when she went looking and it had everything that she required. There was now no more reason to wait. They would do it tonight.

Ron nodded, visibly steeling himself for his next question. "Is, umm, Bill also in there?"

Hermione reached for Ron and pulled him into a comforting hug. She didn't comment on the fact that he was trembling. When she released him, she wiped a tear from his cheek. "It's actually why I came to get you," she said sadly. "There's, umm, a bit of a problem."

"What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "It's Ginny," she informed him. "I'm about to move him and, well, I may have made the mistake of mentioning that I'm not really sure what's going to happen once we're in the room. She, umm, won't let me take him. She's holding onto his body. She won't let go."

He waited a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what she was telling him. "Do you mean that there might not be a body left when the Ritual is over?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I mean that I don't know," she admitted painfully. "I've never done this before."

Ron took a deep breath. "Do you think it's all worth it?" he asked, sounding resigned.

Hermione frowned.

"I don't mean, umm, Bill. I know, umm, he would willingly have given his body up if it meant the end of all of this, but I'm talking about Harry." He sighed. "From what I remember you telling us, this Ritual could end up killing him, right?"

She had no response to that, which told Ron all that he needed to know.

"Come on," he prompted. "Let's go. I'll talk to Ginny."

Ron and Hermione walked in silence through the cold house, neither of them knowing the words to comfort each other. They entered the dining room to find a small vigil surrounding Bill's body. Ginny was, indeed, holding on tightly to Bill's body, Neville standing a step behind her, clearly unsure what to do to help his girlfriend.

"Where's George?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"He couldn't handle it," she whispered back. "Angelina took him out back."

"So it's up to me?"

Hermione didn't answer his question. She rather put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed slightly and then dropped her hand once more. She couldn't offer him much more. Not when she was barely holding on herself.

Hermione watched in complete silence as he walked around the table and gently placed his hands on his sister's shoulders. She continued to look on as Ron started to whisper words to his sister, trying to convince her that now was the time to let go.

Hermione thought that everyone was on board about this. They didn't have to like it but, similar to the fact that the Order did not know who they had killed, it was just accepted. This was what was required from them, in this Third War.

Fleur was quick to agree to it and Hermione hated to use her sudden desire to end the war at any cost against her. But Harry eased her guilt by saying that there was no other way. She knew he was right. In fact, she'd had to convince him of it first, only to have him use her words back against her.

It needed to be done. At any cost.

Because Harry was who they needed, and he needed his magic.

Bill was the only way to achieve that without someone else having to die.

They'd had a small memorial type of funeral for Bill the night before. Fleur had ventured out of her room just to lay eyes on her husband but she hadn't said a word to anyone. She'd just stood in silence for a minute before she left, locking herself away with her own thoughts. There hadn't been a dry eye around as they exchanged stories about the surprising redhead with the fang earring and ponytail.

Hermione had cried for Bill, but she'd cried for everything else as well. There had already been so much pain, deceit and betrayal, and the fact that they were nowhere near the end made the rest of their lives unclear and that scared her to no end.

When Ginny started to cry from whatever Ron was saying to her, which then turned into a full-on sob; Hermione had to leave. She couldn't stand there and watch her friend go through this. Her family. So, without a word, she backed out of the room, her mind and body involuntarily leading her towards the only person she wanted to see.

Harry Potter was sitting in the corner of the room, his knees clutched close against his chest and a distant look on his face. From the sight of him, Hermione could tell that he was thinking about everything all at once. She desperately wanted to comfort him but she also needed for him to comfort her. They needed each other in this.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Harry turned his head to where she was still standing in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the pained look on her face. He immediately - though somewhat gingerly - stood up and made his way over to her. Before she could even get a word out, he had her wrapped up in his arms, holding her close against his chest. The hug was tense for a moment before they both relaxed, allowing the feel of the other's body to ease the pain if only for a moment.

Eventually, Hermione pulled herself together and stepped out of his embrace. She wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat. "We have things to do," she said, using her Professor-voice that Harry and Ron knew all too well.

Harry even managed a slight smile as he took a step away from her. Now was not the time to blur the lines. She was right. They had things to do.

Hermione stepped around him and moved towards the centre of the room. She'd brought her bag down earlier in the day in preparation for what was to happen tonight. Tonight, she would perform a Ritual she only recently learned on her best friend, hoping to restore his magic without killing him. Or herself.

She hadn't mentioned that part to Harry. She knew that he would never allow her to go through with it if he knew it would place her in danger. He was just too noble sometimes. When it wasn't adorable, it was painfully irritating. But then again, it was one of the things that she loved most about him.

Well, it wasn't as if she couldn't love the things she hated about him, right?

"Is everything okay upstairs?" Harry asked after a while, remaining standing where he was and watching her dig through her bag.

Hermione paused what she was doing for a moment. "No," she said, not looking at him. Then she resumed her search, eventually pulling out a thick book.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Hermione didn't want to tell him and he could tell. But he still pushed on, needing to know without having to go upstairs himself.

"Hermione?"

She stopped moving entirely and looked at him. "Harry, please."

Harry's eyes softened at the sound of that. The way she said his name, almost begging him not to pursue this line of questioning, tugged at his heart until he could no longer bring himself to speak. Slowly, he made his way over to Hermione. If he were completely healthy, he might have knelt down beside her but he didn't have the wherewithal to do that right now so he tugged at her sleeve to get her to stand up.

She complied, even if her expression revealed her obvious confusion. "Harry?"

He placed a hand on each of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "You are the strongest person I have ever known," he said softly, truthfully. The sincerity was so clear in his tone of voice and it broke her heart that much more. "I don't know how you do it. Seriously. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it and I'm convinced that you've got to be some kind of super human or something."

Despite herself - and really, despite everything that was going on - she found herself blushing. She couldn't help it. This was Harry Potter saying these things.

"You never gave up on me," he said, the volume of his voice dropping. "Even when I gave up on myself, you never did. I don't think I've ever told you what that means to me and I don't think I could ever find the right words to convey my meaning. But know this, Hermione Granger, I am so thankful for who you are and what you bring to my life.

"Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, which is saying a lot, because I've been through quite a bit in my little boring life. There wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, Hermione. I know this is all something I should have told you before but I think now is as good as any, given what we're about to do. I have to to tell you so many things. I have to apologise for so much and thank you for everything."

"Stop," she rushed, lifting her hands and placing them on his forearms. "Don't make it sound like I'm about to lose you," she said. "I'm not going to let that happen. Not this time around. I won't survive going through that again."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that at first. Everything felt like empty promises right now, in this strange state of limbo in which they were all existing. He cleared his throat. "Believe me, Hermione, if I had my way; I would never leave you again. So long as I live."

Hermione couldn't even bring herself to breathe and the sound of his _vow._

"We will get through this," he said strongly, his gaze piercing hers. "One step at a time, right? Together."

All she could do, really, was nod.

Harry wasn't so blind that he couldn't see the dazed look on her face. It actually made him smile, for the first time in what felt like a very long time. _I want to kiss you_ , he thought wildly. He blinked in surprise at his own thoughts before he dropped his hands, forcing her to do the same, and took a deep, calming breath.

Before Hermione could say anything, there was movement in the doorway, Ron suddenly appearing.

"Hey, best friends," the redhead said, clearly noticing how close to each other they were standing. He couldn't help his smirk, even though he felt like never smiling ever again.

Hermione stepped away first, dropping her head to hide her blush. If she knew Ron like she did, he would definitely bring this up later.

Later? If she survived. If _they_ survived...

Ron stepped into the room, his smirk faltering. Behind him was Neville, who was levitating what was clearly Bill's body, covered by a white sheet. Nobody needed to see him until it was completely necessary.

Hermione was tempted to ask how Ron had managed to get Ginny to let go but she was sure she didn't actually want to know. Already, this house had made them use too many painful words to get one another to do too many painful things.

"Where should I put him?" Neville asked quietly, subconsciously not wanting to speak too loudly in the presence of the dead.

It was Hermione who replied. "Right here," she said, indicating to a spot in the middle of the room. The Ritual would have to be built around Bill and Harry. The centre of the room was the only place that made sense. They would draw the pentagram in the centre of the room, allowing sufficient space for the aftermath of the Ritual.

The four of them stood awkwardly for a moment before Neville broke their silence. "Will they know?"

Hermione looked at him. "What?"

"The Order. Will they know that Harry has his magic back when all this over?"

"My understanding of this Ritual is that it will draw on the magic of those who initially participated in the Ritual that took Harry's magic away. I don't know how that will affect _them_ but I'm more concerned with Harry anyway."

"Oh, we know," Ron said coyly, and Hermione shot him a look. Trust Ron to make light of this situation.

"How long will it take?" Neville asked, ignoring the two friend's antics, much like Harry.

"I don't know that either," she said. Merlin, admitting that she didn't know things was painful. "We'll start at midnight and see from there."

"And you're doing it tonight because it's the full moon?"

She nodded. Why was he asking all these questions?

"Do you need any help?"

Hermione fought her urge to say yes. "No, I think we'll be fine."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You just want to be the only one to see Harry naked, don't you?"

Hermione bustled at that, her heart rate picking up.

"Wait," Harry said; "I have to get naked?"

"No," Hermione said strongly. "This is to do with the magical core, not the body or soul. Don't listen to Ron. He's being an idiot, as usual."

Ron just laughed. "Okay then, we'll leave you two kids to it." He started to leave, gesturing for Neville to walk with him, but the other Gryffindor hesitated.

"Hermione?" Neville asked quietly. "Are you sure you don't need one of us here?"

From the look in his eye, Hermione just knew that he suspected that this Ritual would be dangerous for her as well. But, if he stayed, something might happen to him too, and she wasn't willing to have Ginny lose someone else she loved in this War. And especially not when... No. "It's going to be fine, Neville," she said calmly. "I can handle it, I promise."

He sighed. "Okay."

Ron and Neville said quick goodbyes, even hugging Harry for good measure. Neville even hugged Hermione, which raised Harry's suspicions. Or merely cemented what he already thought.

"It's going to be painful for you too, isn't it?" Harry asked once they were alone.

"Nothing I can't handle," she dismissed as she busied herself with the preparations.

Harry watched as she drew the pentagram into the ground surrounding Bill. She was very precise, calculating angles as she went. Then came the candles. She placed them in position but did not light them. When she was done, she stood up straight and looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I know I said that you wouldn't have to be naked, but you're going to have to take off your shirt so I can draw the runes on you."

He nodded. "Now?"

"Umm." She bit at her bottom lip. "I think I should do Bill first."

"Okay," he said, involuntarily stepping back. "I think I'm just going to pop out to the loo. Is that okay?"

Hermione read his desire to leave the room for what it was. "Okay. I'll be here."

Harry couldn't get out of there quickly enough. He closed the door behind him and fought the urge to dry heave. As per Hermione's instructions, he hadn't eaten anything all day. For whatever reason, he needed an empty stomach.

Harry waited ten minutes before he went back inside, to find Bill's body uncovered with runes written on his chest and arms. It hurt Harry to know that this was what Bill would be used for: the sacrifice required to bring his magic back. The same way he now suspected that Remus and Tonks had been used to get rid of it in the first place.

Hermione was kneeling at Bill's side, a flat bowl at her side and some kind of dagger balanced on its edges.

"What is that?" he asked, referring to the dagger.

"It's a Ritual blade," she informed him, not even lifting her head.

"It requires blood?"

Hermione looked up at him, sensing his panic. The last time he'd _given_ blood; the Dark Lord had risen once again. "It'll only be a little," she said. "We need it so that the runes know which core to bind the magic to."

He just nodded before he glanced at his watch. It was almost time.

"Take off your shirt," Hermione eventually said as she stood up. "And remove anything metal, so your belt, your watch and your shoes. The jeans will also have to go; your buttons are made of metal."

Harry did as he was told until he was standing in just his boxers and socks. He noticed that Hermione made a point of not looking at his face as she began to draw on him, sending chills up and down his spine.

Once she was satisfied, she stood up straight and turned immediately, but he caught hold of her wrist to stop her from getting any further away from him.

"Hermione," he began, getting her to look at him. "I don't want you to do anything stupid," he said. He watched her face as she prepared for a retort but he spoke before she could. "I mean it. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work. I need you to promise that you'll leave it at that. I don't want you doing any heroics, okay?"

She frowned. "That's like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"Promise me?" he said, his eyes blazing.

She blinked. "Okay. I promise."

He released her and she moved towards the centre of the room where she put away anything that wasn't required for the actual Ritual. She glanced at her own watch before she motioned for Harry to enter the pentagram. He removed his glasses and handed them to her.

"You have stand with your feet either side of him," she instructed. "Face him, yeah, like that." Hermione bent down to retrieve the Ritual blade before she used her wand to light the candles. "It's simple," she said to Harry. "When the time comes, I'll slice your hand. When I'm saying the spell, you have to drop some blood onto Bill's chest. What happens next, I suppose, is up to whether the Ritual catches or not."

Harry looked at her. "I know there are things you're not telling me."

"And what do you intend to do about it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said, surprising her. "We need to do this."

"We do."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I'll see you after?"

She had to return his smile. "Piece of cake."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and held out his hand when he heard the distant gong of a Grandfather clock somewhere in the house. He barely felt it when Hermione sliced his hand. Then she was speaking, and Harry was forced to open his eyes. As told, he dropped blood onto Bill's chest, and he was hit with a blinding light. It emanated from the runes on Bill's body, making Harry block his own eyes with his left arm.

Harry was made oddly aware of Hermione slumping down on his right side. He made a move to go to her but his body felt too heavy, as if something was weighing him down.

"It's okay, Harry," she managed to say, and it was the last thing he heard before it truly started.

It began with the screaming. It pierced his ears, throwing him off balance and he landed hard on his knees, his injured hand toppling a candle over. He couldn't see anything and all he could hear was the sound of the screaming. Someone was screaming; they were obviously in pain.

It took him a moment more to figure out that that someone was him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Harry was awake for most of it. He felt every bit of the blinding pain and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. His own screams were echoing in his head, making coherent thought truly impossible.

"Give in, Harry."

Harry didn't know where the voice was coming from, but it was surprisingly soothing.

"Please, Harry," the voice said again. "Give in to the pain. Please. Just pass out. Please."

Harry felt his body tense as another wave of pain hit him, causing him to cry out. It was blistering, like he was being burned alive. Would giving into the pain make it end? If Harry were being truthful, this pain wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, and he had survived that without passing out.

"Please," the voice said again. "I can't watch you go through this. Just pass out. Please. Don't fight it. Pass out."

Harry did as he was told. It was peaceful for all but a moment, before the screaming started again. Only, this time, it was all happening in his head. And, that, by no means, meant that it wasn't real.

* * *

The moment Harry woke up, he felt it.

It was everywhere, like it was swimming in his very veins right along with his red and white blood cells, fuelling his body and giving him strength. What he was feeling was unmistakable: he felt _powerful_.

He was no longer a powerless Muggle; he was Harry Potter, and the wizard was back.

His eyes opened to the world and everything seemed brighter, even clearer. He felt absolutely no pain in his left side, which had to be his greatest relief.

He was still in the Ritual room. Hermione was right to leave him in here. Alone. He was now sitting on the floor, in the centre of the room, and he wasn't alone.

Harry let out a breath in relief at the sight of Bill's body. Thank Merlin for the little victories. At least, now they could give their fallen friend a proper burial.

Harry surveyed the room. It looked like a tornado had passed through it. The candles looked to be thrown about the room, and Harry's boxers were twisted unattractively. He absently wondered how much Hermione had seen.

Slowly, gingerly, Harry rose to his feet. He was surprised to find that he was no longer wearing socks. He even smiled at how strange that was. Where could they have gone?

Harry stretched his arms up in the air and both his muscles and joints complained about the movement. It really felt like he'd spent the last however long he'd been in this room on the stone hard floor. He had no idea what time it was, or what day it was.

Harry's sudden panic got him moving, and he headed to the door, only to find it locked. He sighed. It must have been a lot worse than he initially thought. He suspected that the room was also Silenced.

Harry may have had his magic back, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to control it if he tried.

Giving up on the door, Harry sat down again, feeling drained. He definitely wasn't used to having magic in his veins. He leaned against the door, which proved to be a very stupid idea when the door suddenly opened and Harry found himself flat on his back, looking up at the only person he wanted to see.

"You're awake," Hermione said, eyeing him.

"You locked the door," he said gruffly, surprised at the sound of his own voice.

"You activated a ward when you tried to open it," she said, staring down at him. "Anyway, how do you feel?"

"Exhausted," he admitted.

"Can you stand up?"

Without a word, Harry, once again, rose to his feet. He put a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. "It's like my body's being bombarded with everything new," he explained. "I'm not used to it."

She risked a smile. "But it's back?"

He nodded.

"That's great, Harry," she said, her hands twitching at her sides.

Harry could tell that she wanted to hug him but she was forcing herself not to. He found it adorably amusing but he said nothing. He didn't think he was ready for a hug right now. "How long have I been out?" he asked instead.

"Just about three days," she said. "I didn't think it would take so long, but what do I know?"

"Hermione."

"You had us all worried," she said, biting her bottom lip. "At times, Harry, your heart rate dropped so low that it was like it wasn't even beating," she explained. "I was worried."

"I'm okay," he said.

Then, realising that she needed to feel it for herself, he was the one to initiate their first post-Ritual hug. His arms snaked around her waist and he held her tight, determined not to release her until she was no longer trembling.

When she calmed down and he heard her breathing even out, he slowly pulled back to look at her. For the first time, they both became aware of the fact that he was barely dressed.

"Umm," he said, slowly dropping his hands down to his sides. "Well, umm," he tried again. "I should; we should - umm - "

Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed. It surprised her at first but she couldn't help it. It was just so funny.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked.

"The wizard really is back, isn't he?" she asked, continuing to laugh. "My my, have I missed you!"

He waited a beat before he smiled. "Three days, you said? What's happened?"

"Maybe we should get you some clothes," she suggested. "A shower. Some food maybe."

He took a deep breath. "Bill is still in there," he said cautiously. Whether it was to prepare her or reassure her, he didn't know, but it had to be said.

She let out a relieved breath. "I was worried."

"I know."

She offered him another small smile, her eyes giving away that she was thinking something that she didn't want him to know. "I'll, umm, take care of the room," she told him. "I set out some clothes for you in the bathroom up the stairs and immediately to your right."

Harry nodded once. "Thank you, Hermione." There were still questions he wanted to ask, but he knew now wasn't the time. The least he could do was put on some clothes first.

Despite everything that was already going on, he was still convinced that they would still have time to talk. He wasn't sure why he was so sure of it, but he was.

Somehow, he just knew that Hermione would make it happen.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, their eyes not straying away from the other. Harry was trying to read her face to determine what she was truly feeling but she wasn't giving anything away.

"Thank you," he said again, unable to get himself moving.

Hermione took a breath before she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Go, get dressed," she whispered. "We'll talk later."

That was Harry's cue to turn and head to the bathroom. Hermione just watched him walk away. He was clearly walking taller, and straighter. He was, of course, no longer injured, which was more than enough proof of the return of his magic.

Things were different now. The Order had immobilised him, and so the Prophecy had found some other way of bringing the most famous wizard back into play. With his magic back, there was both a greater danger and a lesser one.

Before she allowed her mind to drift too far, she headed into the Ritual room. She was caught off guard by the state of it. It was as if a tornado had ripped through it, sending all the candles and other Ritual items around the room.

But what really caught her off guard was that Bill was exactly where she'd left him, looking completely untouched. The Runes she'd written on him were also nowhere in sight, which was a bit of a relief. Those Runes had burned through her body, latching onto life and death in a painful way.

She knew that telling Harry that she'd passed out shortly after him would do no good, but she made a mental note to tell him about it at some point.

In the future.

A future that Hermione was determined to have. With him.

Hermione didn't move Bill right away. They would have a proper funeral for him when this was all over. Instead, she cast another powerful Cooling Charm, and added on a _Statis_ Charm for good measure. She would leave him down here, far enough from Ginny, Ron and George because they didn't need to be reminded of their loss every time they walked past the dining room.

Hermione sealed the room and then headed upstairs to wait for Harry. What she didn't expect was to wait for almost forty-five minutes. It just seemed unlikely that he would take that long, and so Hermione carefully stood up from her position on the floor opposite the bathroom and moved towards the door.

She gently knocked. "Harry?"

Nothing.

"Harry, is everything all right in there?" she asked, but she was met with only silence. She tried to keep a cap on her panic but it was threatening. "Harry, open the door," she said hurriedly. "Open the door, Harry! Harry!"

She stepped back whipped out her wand, said the spell to unlock the door, and flung it open violently. What she saw shocked her to the core, her mind flying to dangerous places. Harry was lying flat on his back on the bathroom tiles, his head turned to the side and a small pool of blood near his head.

Hermione rushed towards him, dropping to her knees at his side. "Harry! Harry, hey, wake up!" She placed two fingers against his neck to check for a pulse, and almost burst out crying when she felt it. It was there, but thready at best. He was breathing.

The blood, she noticed, was coming from his nose. "Harry," she said, placing a hand on his bare chest and shaking him. "Come on, please, Harry, wake up! I need you to wake up. I need you!"

She closed her hand into a fist and beat at his chest. Hard. "You wake up right now, dammit!"

There was a long moment of absolutely nothing, and then he took in a harsh breath, his chest lifting off the ground. His eyes flew open, a flurry of consciousness hitting him in full force. His entire body was shaking.

"Harry," she said, taking hold of his head and forcing him to look at her. "You're okay. You're okay."

He felt lightheaded as he tried to sit up. Hermione helped him until he was sitting up against the bathtub. "What happened?" he asked, his head continuing to spin.

"I don't know," she confessed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "I just got out of the shower, and I tried to reach for..." he trailed off, glancing down. He let out a small sigh of relief that the towel was still wrapped securely around his waist. That could have been a potent mixture of awkward and embarrassing for both of them if it wasn't.

"For your what?"

"My clothes," he finished nervously. "I don't remember much after that."

Hermione's eyes drifted down to the small pool of blood, her mind running a mile a minute. "Did you use magic?"

He frowned. "Magic? How?"

"Accidentally?"

He swallowed. "I don't know," he said softly. "I just reached out, and that's the last thing I remember."

Hermione thought back on everything she'd read about the Ritual, her mind racing through the pages she could recall. Even if his magical core was fresh; it wouldn't explain _this_. Had something gone wrong?

"I get worried when you get that look on your face," Harry said quietly, wary of breaking into her thinking.

"I should have run tests on you before I sent you to the shower," she said, sounding annoyed with herself. "Do you think you can stand up?"

It took him a while, and a great deal of effort but he was able to stand up and get dressed.

"Are these actually my clothes?" he asked, spying an old green t-shirt that was a longtime favourite.

Hermione looked at him guiltily. "Don't be mad, but I sort of swiped a few things when we were at 87 Bollinger the night we retrieved the Prophecy," she informed him. "I had a bad feeling, and I wanted to be prepared."

Harry stared at her for a moment, before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek sloppily. "You're brilliant, do you know that?"

"I think you've mentioned it a few times."

Harry followed her out of the bathroom and into a small den. She forced him into an armchair and took out her wand to run several diagnostic spells. She made several sounds, both in confusion and slight appreciation.

"What? What?" he asked.

"Well, of course Harry Potter would be such an overachiever, wouldn't he?" she commented, shaking her head.

He frowned. "Tell me what's wrong with me."

"That's just it; there's nothing _wrong_ with you," she said, huffing. "Your body just can't handle the _amount_ of magic you have at your disposal right now." She flopped down onto a couch, suddenly looking tired. "It'll take time for everything to adjust and get in sync."

Harry just nodded. "Why do you look so mad then?"

She glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry if finding you unconscious on the bathroom floor raised alarm bells for me," she muttered. "I am sick and tired of you almost dying!"

Harry just watched her, searching her face for her true feelings. "I'm sorry," he eventually said. "I really am."

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said as well. "You just worry me, you know?"

"I do know, and I'm sorry. This was never what I wanted for you, and you know that. You were supposed to live a trouble-free, Harry-free life, Hermione. I just wanted you to be happy."

She looked at him, willing herself to say words that would hint at her deeper feelings. "I don't think I've been happy a day without you, Harry," she admitted. "You are my best friend, and, well, you make me happy just by, you know, being your annoying, amazing self."

Harry got up out of the armchair and moved towards her. He didn't know what he intended to do, but he was halted by a wave of dizziness and he practically fell onto the couch before he reached her.

"Harry," she said, a reprimand on the tip of her tongue.

He groaned, a hand flying to his temple. Hermione conjured a small towel and held it against his nose the moment it started to bleed.

"You're going to have to take it easy," she instructed gently. "What on earth were you trying to do?"

He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Well, really, I think I was going to kiss you," he mumbled, and her entire body tensed at the confession.

"Oh?"

Harry removed the towel from his nose. "Serves me right, doesn't it? Just assuming you'd even want me to."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "You assume correctly," she informed him, meeting his gaze. "But maybe we should - "

"Talk about it?"

"Maybe wait until all this is over," she offered instead. "Something to look forward to; incentive to keep yourself alive."

"Oh, you give yourself too much credit, Miss Granger," he teased.

Hermione reached for his closest hand, entwining their fingers. She stared at their hands for a moment, before she brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed its back.

Staring at her, all he could do was imagine what it would feel like to have her mouth kiss him in other places.

Harry squeezed her hand, before releasing it. "So what happens now?" he asked seriously.

Hermione spent a moment thinking about what would have to happen next. "Your magic," she eventually said. "Right now, your magic is the most important thing. It'll be the one thing we can use against them all."

"I don't even have my wand," he said, running a hand roughly through his hair. "I mean, who's to say I even remember how to use magic? What if I'm literally at the same level as I was before Hogwarts?"

Hermione regarded him sympathetically. "One step at a time, Harry," she said gently, the fingers of her left hand brushing against his right cheek.

He visibly calmed at her touch. He swore there was magic in her fingers. This woman was some other kind of witch.

"We'll figure it out, okay?" she said. "It'll come back to you eventually. You just have to let it, and maybe _practice_ as well."

"And I'll have the best professor there is, won't I?" he said, risking a smirk.

"Speaking of being your, umm, professor; I have something for you," she said, standing up and stepping around the small table in the centre of the room.

Harry watched as she fished through her famous Hermione-bag, and eventually pulled out a wand that looked dangerously familiar. "Is that...?"

"I may or may not have taken it when I went searching for your clothes at 87 Bollinger," she began to explain, blushing slightly. "I remembered your telling me it was in a sock drawer. So very Muggle, Harry Potter."

He just stared at the holly wand in her hand, the memories flooding through his mind in a rush. That wand had served him well.

"Are you mad?" she asked, worrying over the somewhat shocked look on his face.

"I haven't even thought about it since that night," he said, sounding ashamed. "How was I supposed to do magic without it?" he asked quietly. "I'd be powerless without it, wouldn't I?"

Hermione said nothing.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "So... my magic," he said, not yet taking the wand from her. Really, he was a little too afraid of what would happen when he did. "That's number one. Come sit. We've got a lot more to discuss."

* * *

Hermione called a meeting for the group later that night. At eight o'clock, they all - save for Fleur - gathered in the main living room, which was furnished enough to accommodate all of them. The Patil sisters had joined them since the death of Bill and they were making plans to contact more of the DA.

Or HA now. They were Harry's Army.

They all expected for Hermione to lead the meeting she called for and ended up frowning when Hermione took a seat and turned her attention to the fireplace. Ron was just about to ask her what was going on when Harry Potter entered the room and moved to stand in front of the fireplace.

The group fell completely silent at the sight of him. He looked so different, both healthier and more ragged at the same time. He stood up straight, walked with purpose and his eyes were clearer than ever.

But maybe that was because he wasn't wearing glasses. And then there was the beard. This was, undoubtedly, a grownup Harry Potter. A man.

Harry cleared his throat before he started to speak. "Hi everyone," he said, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his tone. He'd gone over everything he wanted to say with Hermione earlier, but it was as if everything just flew from his mind as soon as they turned their expectant looks on him.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who offered him an encouraging smile. They were all here for him and he had to accept it somehow.

He took a deep breath. "My magic's back," he practically blurted out. "The Ritual was a success."

There was a murmur of approval, and several people managed smiles, though nobody made a comment.

"I want to thank you all for your patience, and all your help with all that's transpired since, well, since I reentered the Wizarding World. I also want to apologise for dragging you all into all of this. It was never my intention. You were just supposed to be witnesses to a conversation, but now we've entered a War, and it's time to fight back."

Harry took a breath. "Several things are going to happen in the next few days, which will let everyone know of our intentions," he continued. "Which is why what I say next is extremely important.

"As soon as plans go into motion, there will be no going back. I know what I have to do; what I'm required to do... But none of that is expected of any of you. So, if this is it, if you want to leave; it's okay. I promise that we won't hold it against you. This War is not for everyone and I understand that completely. Believe me, I know."

Nobody moved.

"I'm serious," Harry said. "We all saw what happened to Bill," he said sadly. "I won't have any more of you getting hurt for something that - " his voice caught. "Just, well, please don't feel obliged to stay."

Again, nobody moved.

"All right then." Harry cleared his throat. "So, well, okay, this is what's going to happen now. Clearly, we can't trust the Order, and we definitely can't talk to them anymore. Which is why we're going to try to talk to the Muggles." He waited, expecting some kind of a retort. When nothing came, he continued. "We will visit them on Sunday morning, early. We need to make them understand that _we're_ not the ones who intend to hurt them.

"Until then, we will need to train. Ron, Dean, Seamus, do you think you can organise a training schedule? From what I remember from Godric's Hollow; there are a few rusty people about, myself included."

Ron just nodded, somewhat relieved to have Harry take firm control of the group. Ron and Hermione weren't the leaders that Harry naturally and truly was. Not when it came down to battle.

Harry turned to look at Luna. "We need a media strike," he said. "Can you organise a team to expose the Order, through as much media as you can manage? Newspaper, radio. I'm sick of everything that the Order, and the Ministry do being hidden in the dark. The people need to know. I want them all to know what they did to me. We need as many people on our side as possible.

"Which is where recruitment comes in," he said. "Not into our group, but onto our side. I won't ask anyone to fight in another War, and I want to avoid a fight as much as possible."

"But we're still going to train," Neville said, sounding slightly confused.

Harry nodded. "We went to Godric's Hollow intent on having a conversation," he said sadly. "I won't have us being unprepared again. Nobody else is going to get hurt because of me." Harry was hit by a wave of dizziness, and he put a hand on the mantlepiece to steady himself.

Hermione made a move to stand up but Harry put a hand out. "I'm all right," he said quietly, returning his attention to the group. "I don't quite have a handle on my magic yet," he told them. "I'm going to need some time to figure out how to use it again, but I anticipate results by Sunday." He offered them a small smile, which ended up looking more like a grimace.

Harry's vision blurred for a moment, and he swayed dangerously. His eyes locked on Hermione's, the brown hauntingly vibrant, and he felt this wave of supreme happiness.

And then he felt nothing.

They all watched Harry drop to the ground, landing hard on his side, blood dripping from his nose. Hermione got up quickly, but she felt forced herself to keep calm about this, because she'd seen him wake up from it earlier in the day.

"Hermione," Ron said hurriedly, rushing to Harry's side with Luna and Neville. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's just his body adjusting to the influx of magic," Hermione said, needing to stay grounded in fear of her emotions taking over and resulting in her beating hard at his chest again. "Turn his head to the side."

Ron had his hand over Harry's chest, looking panicked. "But Hermione," he said. "He's not breathing."

Hermione's own breath froze in her throat. "What?"

Ron stared at his hand over Harry's heart. "There's no heartbeat. His heart isn't beating."

Hermione scrambled to Harry's side and checked for a pulse. Nothing. She just stared at him, unable to comprehend what was happening. His heart wasn't beating. Harry Potter wasn't breathing. How could that be?

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, ripping her from her thoughts. "Do something! Help him! I won't lose him too."

Hermione wasn't prepared for this, and she froze, unable to move. He wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't beating, and all Hermione could think about was that she hadn't kissed him. They hadn't kissed, and now he wasn't breathing.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled again. "Bloody hell, do something!"

She couldn't move.

So, acting on impulse, Ron stood up, settled himself in position and pointed his wand at Harry's body. He was _not_ going to lose another brother.

"What are you doing?" someone asked from behind Ron, panic in their voice. There was a flurry of voices until Hermione's certain voice broke through the cacophony.

"Do it," Hermione said, her eyes on Ron. "Do it, Ron."

So he did. The spell left his mouth with practiced ease. Merlin help them all if he ended up killing Harry Potter instead of saving him.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

In the end, it took Ron almost ten seconds to work up the courage to cast the spell. It was known as the Shock Spell - working the same way as a defibrillator - and, if not aimed properly... Ron stopped thinking about it. Instead, he focused his aim straight at Harry's heart and fired the spell, making the raven-haired wizard's body convulse from the impact.

But nothing else happened.

"Again," Hermione shouted. "More power. Do it again!"

So Ron did, throwing every ounce of his magic into the spell.

Harry's body convulsed again, before settling down. Hermione's fingers flew to his pulse point, feeling for any sign of life. This was not supposed to be happening. It should have been easier for his body to adjust.

Unless his magic was being rejected, like an organ that wasn't compatible, and his body was shutting down.

Maybe the magic was leading him to Darkness, and Harry's Light was fighting it.

Perhaps the Ritual hadn't _actually_ worked, and she'd actually ended up killing him.

All these things were running through Hermione's mind, right until the moment she felt the lightest pulse under her fingers. "Thank heavens," she murmured under her breath. She kept her fingers in place, feeling the pulse pick up a strong, steady rhythm.

A moment later, Harry Potter took in a sharp breath and his eyes flew open. "Wha - "

"Harry!" Ron was the first to react, dropping down onto his knees and sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment, he'd been forced to imagine a life that didn't have Harry or Bill, and he just couldn't handle it. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

Luna wrapped her arms around Ron, trying to soothe him, while Hermione turned her attention to the wizard who was causing all this trauma. She had half a mind to slap him for worrying her so much, but she was so relieved to see his emerald eyes that she too couldn't hold back her own tears.

"What happened?" Harry asked groggily, trying to sit up.

"Stay down."

All eyes turned towards Hannah, who was looking paler than ever. She had her wand drawn, and it was pointed straight at Harry. If Hermione weren't so exhausted, she might have rolled her eyes at just how absurd this entire thing was. Couldn't the green-eyed wizard just catch a break? Couldn't they all?

"Nobody move," Hannah said nervously, her eyes darting about. "Seriously. Nobody move."

Nobody moved.

"I'm sorry," she said shakily. "I thought I could do it... I _wanted_ to, for my mother, but I can't. I can't." She wiped furiously at her leaking tears with her free hand. "I have to go. I can't be here. I have to go. I won't - I can't - " she sobbed. " _Obliviate_ me if you have to."

There was silence for a long moment, before Harry broke the silence. "Okay."

All eyes snapped towards him.

Gingerly, Harry sat up, his eyes meeting hers. "I told all of you that you weren't obligated to stay," he said calmly. "This is only the beginning, and I assured you that your decision wouldn't be held against you. I'm not going to take it back now." He took a breath. "By all means, Hannah, you are free to leave. I do sincerely hope that by leaving us; you are not intending to join those who intend to fight against us?"

She bit her trembling bottom lip, before she shook her head. "I just want to go home."

Harry nodded once, turning to look at Hermione, who was just gaping at him. He resisted the urge to close her mouth for her. "Would you do it, Hermione?" he asked quietly, jerking her into action.

She immediately stood up and retrieved her wand, which had flown somewhere in all the excitement. She wasn't sure how _she_ felt about all of this, but she was willing to go with Harry on this one. If he, the man who had suffered all he had, could find it in himself to understand whatever Hannah was feeling, then who was she to doubt him?

Hermione lifted a coaster from the small pile in the centre of the coffee table, and quickly created a Portkey, before levitating it towards Hannah. She might be trying to understand, but that didn't mean that she forgave. Hannah drew her wand on Harry; Hermione would _never_ forget. It was almost comical that the first two people to bail on their collective fight were from Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat definitely had some explaining to do.

Without another word, Hermione focused her mind, and then opened her mouth: " _Oblivi_ \- "

"Stop!" Ron shouted, cutting her off as he practically leaped to his feet. "You can't use that spell! You can't!" His arms were flailing; he was clearly still in a right state after witnessing Harry's ordeal. It looked like something had snapped within him, his eyes feral and his body tense. "What are you thinking? Did you learn nothing from Bill?" he yelled. "Stop! Just stop! I won't lose you too!"

George put a hand on Ron's shoulder, which was all it took to break the younger Weasley. Ron dropped to his knees in utter defeat, and Harry scrambled towards him with the intention of trying to calm him.

Ron's head snapped up when he noticed Harry's approach, and there was something new in his eyes; something _harsh_. "This is all _your_ fault!" he cried. "Bill is dead! Victoire has no father! We keep going like this and Hermione's going to be next to die! _We're all going to die_ , because you couldn't just stay away! Why couldn't you have just stayed away?" His voice was tired, defeated. "Why couldn't you have just stayed dead?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry didn't react, though several people did gasp.

Ron jumped to his feet, stumbling in his hurry. "This is all your fault!" he spat at Harry, before he looked around the room. "We all bloody know it!" And then he bolted, leaving the room in charged silence.

Hermione blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay. The second they started, she was sure that they wouldn't stop. And plus, she thought that there'd been more than enough nervous breakdowns for one day.

"Do it, Hermione," Harry said through his clenched jaw. She knew he was trying to keep a handle on his emotions, and on his magic. It would be disastrous if _he_ was the one to lose control. Especially in such an enclosed space, surrounded by their closest friends.

Without questioning him, she turned back to Hannah, who looked even paler before, if that was even possible. She barely gave it any thought this time around, as she cast the _Obliviation_ Spell, and then activated the Portkey. Hannah didn't deserve the opportunity to say goodbye to the very people she was choosing to abandon.

She disappeared right before their eyes, and Hermione decided that that was the last time she would worry about Hannah Abbott. She had her boys to take care of. When Hermione turned back to Harry, he was gone. Her frown was enough to prompt an answer from Cho.

"It looked like he went that way," she said, pointing in the direction that led to the downstairs portion of the house that Harry had spent the last few days in. She could only guess why he chose that way to go, and she was mentally preparing herself for whatever she was going to have to deal with when she finally found him.

"Luna," Hermione said; "will you - "

"On it," was the automatic reply, and then she shot off in search of her fiance.

Hermione took a moment to catch her breath. Then, to the group, she said: "I think we've all had a rather eventful day," she said tiredly. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to call it a night. I sincerely hope you'll all still be here in the morning." She didn't wait for a response as she stalked out of the room in search of Harry.

As soon as she reached the steps leading downstairs, she stopped to catch her breath. Or just _start_ breathing normally again. If she were being particularly honest, she didn't think that she'd breathed easy since this entire thing started. No. Since Harry disappeared.

It was even before then.

After the effects of the day, she couldn't imagine a day when she _would_ be able to breathe properly.

Well, for starters, she could locate Harry. That would definitely help. As much anxiety as the wizard gave her; just being able to see him, and to touch him, was more than enough to calm her down until she could function again.

It didn't take her all that long to find him once she really went looking. He was in the little den that they'd commandeered earlier in the day, sitting hunched over in an armchair, his face in his hands.

Hermione moved to kneel in front of him, her slender fingers automatically prying his hands away from his face. She needed to see him; she needed to see his perfect eyes. She was definitely not prepared for what she found.

Harry looked devastated when his gaze eventually settled on hers. "He's right," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "He is _so_ right, Hermione."

She shuffled forward until she was kneeling right between his legs, her elbows resting on the tops of his thighs. "So what if he is?" she asked, refusing to allow him to play the blame-game. This wasn't the time for a pity party. "If it's your fault, then it's my fault as well."

He blinked in confusion.

"He's hurting, Harry," she said. "People say things they don't mean when they're hurting. I get that he's probably thought it before, but there's a difference between thinking and saying. Today was _hard_ , and lashing out is how he's dealing with it. That reflects _nothing_ on you, do I make myself clear?"

All he could really do was stare at her in fascination. She was so close to him, lifting him up while simultaneously keeping him grounded.

Hermione put her hands on either side of his face. "This world would be a terrible, awful place if you were dead," she said quietly. "I don't - I don't even want to think about a life where you're not around. Please don't make me." She held his gaze for a moment more, before she started to lean in.

Harry backed away slightly. "Uh, Hermione, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you," she replied easily.

"But you said, _after_ ," he reminded her, his mind sufficiently distracted from his previous thoughts. "Is this because of what happened in the living room? Because I won't have you kissing me just because you're scared you won't get the chance to."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, you give yourself too much credit, Mr Potter."

He couldn't help his grin, as he settled his forehead against hers. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he was content to sit there and listen to her breathing. His eyes closed after a moment, and the two of them remained in that position for Merlin-only-knew how long.

It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Would you die for me, Harry Potter?" she asked in a whisper.

Harry opened his eyes and leaned back slightly to look at her properly. He took hold of both her hands and squeezed them gently. "I already did," he replied.

She nodded thoughtfully. That was the wrong question to ask this man, and she ought to have known it. "Then, answer me this: would you live for me?"

He hesitated.

"You don't expect to survive this, do you?" she asked quietly, knowingly. "Is that why you won't kiss me? Because I would think it would be a reason to."

In a movement so quick, Hermione didn't even see it coming; Harry had her held flush against him, their chests colliding and his face dangerously close to hers. His breath was tickling her nose, and she could feel its effects on her body right down to her toes. He didn't do anything, and he didn't say a word more.

"You're not going to kiss me, are you?" she asked, her voice stuttering.

"No," he breathed. "Because, if I do; I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Not that Hermione would complain; she still knew that he was right. Knowing that she _could_ kiss him would be terribly distracting, and they had too much to accomplish without throwing their growing feelings and a physical outlet to deal with them into the mix.

"But believe me when I tell you that I _want_ to," he said breathily, his hold on her tightening slightly. "Desperately."

Hermione risked a peck to his cheek, allowing her lips to linger.

Harry sighed contently, before he loosened his death grip on her. He desperately wanted to lean back and pull her into his lap, just so he could hold her close and try to forget everything that happened today.

He had to know that Hermione wouldn't let him.

She pulled back until she could see his face clearly. She was tempted to back away entirely, but his gentle hold on her upper arms kept her in place. "How are you feeling?" she asked seriously. "Any dizziness? Are you lightheaded? Headaches? How's the magic?"

He couldn't help his smile at how _Hermione_ she sometimes was. "I feel grounded," he said after a moment. "I think the worst is over. It doesn't feel as erratic, _inside_." He felt foolish saying it that way, but he just knew that she would understand. "It's time to start using it."

She shook her head. "Tomorrow."

"I was going to say that."

"Sure you were."

They fell into silence, both of them decidedly not talking about Ron again. There was always tomorrow to sort through all of _that_. After a few minutes, which produced five yawns - three for her, and two for him - Hermione stood up, using her palms on his legs for leverage. Once she was upright and steady, she held out her hand for him.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, slipping his hand into hers with little to no hesitation.

"I'm taking you to bed, Mr Potter."

Harry couldn't help the shiver that shot straight down his spine, and he spied her smug smile when she felt it. She was going to play dirty, was she? He definitely wasn't complaining. If, for just a moment, he could allow her to forget what their lives now were, then he would do it in a heartbeat.

He allowed her to help him to his feet, and then proceeded to follow her through the house towards the master suite, their hands remaining connected. They said nothing as they walked, the silence comforting. There was no need to talk now.

Everything else could wait for tomorrow.

* * *

The next few days were quiet, each and every person working at the tasks they'd been set. While Dean and Seamus led the group training, Hermione worked with Harry on his own, in the downstairs area that he'd commandeered. He just didn't feel comfortable in the main house. Despite what Hermione assured him; he couldn't help thinking that Ron was right.

It _was_ all his fault.

It also turned out that Harry wasn't completely hopeless, as they'd initially feared. Once his magic settled, and his body dealt with the influx of excess magic - Hermione still wasn't sure where it came from, though she had her theories - Harry was officially good to go.

They started with simple spells first, but his ability to perform magic grew exponentially. Before long, Hermione's aid was moot, though he made sure to let her know that he would always want her around. He made sure to emphasise the word 'Always,' just to see her blush.

While all forms of training were underway, Luna was planning her media attack. As far as the Wizarding World was concerned, Harry Potter was still missing, and nothing was amiss with the lives they'd all come to live following the end of the Second Wizarding War.

Come Sunday morning, that would change. Every house in the Wizarding World would soon know just what the Order did to their beloved Saviour, Harry James Potter. The blonde witch was hoping that the frenzy of the articles would be enough of a distraction to allow Harry's Army to visit the Muggles in peace.

Nobody was holding his or her breath. _Peace_ was a foreign word, these days, and nothing would ever be that easy.

Angelina and Alicia took charge of recruitment. They were both well-liked in school and respected in their respective jobs, that it made sense for them to be the ones to reach out to all possible Harry Sympathisers. They sent out hundreds of letters, requesting their attendance at a informal meeting to be held in Godric's Hollow on Sunday evening. Come hell or high water, there _would_ be a meeting, and decisions would be made.

George and Ron were the ones to scope out Godric's Hollow, and it was decided that the aftermath of the initial conflict with the Order was the most suitable place. By then, _everyone_ would know, and sides would have to be chosen.

Every time he thought about it, it made Harry's insides churn. Whatever was happening was going to happen, despite how much he didn't want it to. He wouldn't go so far to say that he was _nervous_ ; it was just that there was a lot relying on his ability to make the Muggle contingent see reason. Without that, there would be a full-blown war among three different sides, and people would die. He was sure of it, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure that nobody else was robbed of his or her life.

When Harry said he would do _anything_ necessary, he meant it, and Hermione knew just what that entailed, though she couldn't bring herself to bring it up to him.

She did, however, have no qualms about questioning him about other things late on the Saturday night before their plans were set into motion. They'd had a full day of strategic planning, working on possible battle formations and distinctly avoiding the fact that Ron and Harry had yet to say words to each other since Ron had wished Harry dead. How does one even begin such a conversation?

"Are you sure you'll be all right to Apparate tomorrow?" Hermione asked him, as they adopted their usual position on his large bed. They were lying on their sides, facing each other. They were close enough to be sharing a pillow, but the only parts of their bodies that were touching were the linked fingers of one of each of their hands.

"I handled it fine today," he assured her softly, his eyes dropping closed.

"And you can hold up the Disillusionment Charm, right?"

He sighed. "Hermione. It's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she countered. "How can you even say that? Are you some kind of Seer now, and you just never told anyone?"

His eyes opened, and he looked at her expectantly. "Are you finished?"

"This isn't funny, Harry," she said, huffing slightly. "Anything and everything could go wrong tomorrow, and you and your first lieutenant can barely look at each other. Excuse me if that doesn't exactly instil confidence in this operation you have planned."

With his free hand, Harry gently cupped her cheek, his fingers brushing over her soft skin. It was enough to silence her. "I gave you the option of coming with us tomorrow," he reminded her. "Are you regretting your decision to stay here?"

"No," she said automatically. "I think I'd be a wreck if I went with."

"It's going to be fine," he tried to assure her again. "We'll deal with whatever happens when it happens."

"What about you and Ron?"

Harry removed his hand from her cheek, and made a fist under his chin, visibly searching for the right words. "This is how Ron and I work," he tried to explain. "Right now, our feelings don't matter, Hermione. Tomorrow, we have a job to do, and I sure as hell am not going to let whatever's going on with me and Ron to get in the way of that. Tomorrow, we'll forget it all and do what we have to." He couldn't be sure if those words were enough, but he didn't think he could say anything more about it.

He suspected that there would be a moment between him and Ron, when all of this would just fall away, and they would go back to - to what? What did they even have _before_ all this running? Ron hated him for leaving the way he did; maybe he even hated him for whatever role he might have played in the end of Ron and Hermione's relationship.

No. Harry had to stop blaming himself for everything. Hermione would skin him alive if she knew this was what was plaguing him. No matter what happened with their upcoming plans, he was going to do better. Well, he was going to try.

He really didn't have to be told twice that it was a lot easier said than done.


End file.
